


in every life (i'd know you)

by AnaliseGrey



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Star Wars Setting, Caleb has had Enough of Ikithon thank you, Caleb's got a temper yo, Captivity, Darth Bren, Fluff, Huddling For Warmth, Hypothermia, M/M, Modern AU, Molly is a dashing hero, Rescue, Spoilers, The Force, all the AUs!, caleb's backstory, implications of maltreatment, phoenix!Caleb, widomauk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-07
Updated: 2020-02-24
Packaged: 2020-02-27 19:43:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 23,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18745795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnaliseGrey/pseuds/AnaliseGrey
Summary: A collection of Critical Role AU fics and ficlets.Each chapter is likely to be a different AU, though if something sparks an idea, it may get multiple chapters throughout. Each chapter will be titled/labeled accordingly, and I'll add tags as I go (if I miss tagging something that you feel should be tagged, shoot me a message in the comments or on tumblr and I'll add it).As always, my Zemnian is very rudimentary, so if you see a mistake, please let me know and I'll correct it :)Feel like saying hi, yelling at me, or have a question? Come find me on tumblr atAnalisegreyor on twitter at the same handle.





	1. Phoenix!Caleb Au

Molly can readily admit that sometimes he has bad ideas. Sometimes his plans don’t work, sometimes they lead to trouble and daring escapes and getting by the skin of his teeth. There are times where the others yell at him, and rightly so.

This is not one of those times.

Molly knows for a fact that Archmage Ikithon isn’t at home, is off at one of the fancy balls King Dwendal likes to throw, and it’s the perfect time to sneak in and have a look-see. He knows to watch for the wards and magic alarms, slips by the guard dogs outside. It’s quiet inside Ikithon’s household, the lights dimmed, and as Molly skulks about, he looks, but doesn’t touch anything. If he decides to take something, it has to be worth it, has to be worth the fuss of possibly pissing off the Archmage of Civil Influence. Shiny baubles are all well and good, but hardly worth risking his hide for.

He enters a room on the second floor that looks like a study, a massive fireplace to one side, with a large desk and chair facing into the room. There are book cases lining one wall, filled with books and knicknacks, but what Molly finds especially curious is that the fireplace remains lit, gentle arcane light emitting from wall sconces despite the apparent lack of anyone else in the house. The fourth wall of the room seems much closer than Molly thinks it should for the layout of the building, made even more interesting by the fact that the wall is draped in curtains of shimmering fabric, out of place with the rest of the room’s decor.

In his head, he hears a voice that sounds very much like Beau, telling him not to be a fucking idiot, to leave well enough alone. He gives the voice its due, considers the words carefully, then promptly disregards them, reaching for the curtain to flick it back and peer inside.

Just behind the draped cloth he finds bars.

The bars appear silver, finely worked with small marks in them that after a second resolve into runes. More warding, Molly thinks. The bars run the width of the room, wall-to-wall, blocking off the remainder of the space into what Molly realizes is a cell. There are more of the arcane lights on the walls, illuminating the space in a soft orange glow. Against one wall is an overstuffed pallet with blankets and pillows, neatly made, while in the nearby corner is a screened-off area that likely holds a water closet. Against the far wall is a mound of jewel-tone cushions and pillows surrounded by stacks of books, and most interesting of all, seated on that pile of cushions, still apparently unaware of his presence, is a man unlike any Molly has ever seen.

The man’s hair moves and shifts like living flame, his pale skin glowing with a golden sheen. He’s wearing loose robes of burgundy cloth, and the feet that peek out from the bottom of the robe are bare, the toenails sharp like talons and shining a dull pink. The few inches of leg Molly can see look scaled in gold, like the pictures of dragons Molly’s seen in some of Nott’s books. On one slim ankle shines a bangle of gold, just barely noticeable amidst the gold of the scales it lies against.

Molly must make some sort of noise, do something to give himself away because the man startles, looking up at him wide-eyed, and Molly’s struck by how lovely the man’s eyes are, burning blue like sapphires.

There’s a quiet moment where they just stare at each other before the man’s shoulders drop back down from his ears and he turns back to his book.

“You do not belong here. You should leave before he comes back.”

The words are softly accented, and Molly is hard-pressed to place it. For all that he appears a prisoner, the man seems relaxed, unconcerned by his predicament, and something about that bothers Molly.

“Who are you?”

“I think it is safer if you don’t know, _ja_? Steal whatever it is you are here for and be on your way, or my master will deal with you and it will not be pleasant, of that I can assure you.”

“Your master...you mean Ikithon?”

At the mention of the name the man twitches, but otherwise remains engaged with his book. “That would be him, _ja_.”

Molly doesn’t know what he thought this was before, but the more he finds out, the less he likes it.

“Are you his captive? Do you need help?”

The man sighs, closing his book and setting it down on one of the pillows before gracefully rolling up to his feet. For the briefest second Molly thinks he sees the outline of wings, but then he blinks and it’s gone. By the time he refocuses his eyes, the man has come closer, standing a few feet away on the other side of the bars from him. This close Molly can see that the man’s hair doesn’t just look like flame, it appears to be _made_ of it, flickering and flowing with the movement of the man’s head. The man folds his arms across his chest and looks Molly up and down, evaluating. It’s not an entirely unpleasant experience, and Molly preens, puffing his chest out as the man’s gaze comes back up to his face. The man huffs a quiet laugh, lips quirking up in a slight smile.

“And if I _was_ a captive, what would you do about it? What would you do against the might of the best the Empire has to offer?”

“I’d get you out, of course.” It’s hardly left Molly’s lips before he knows it’s true.

Another quiet sound of laughter, and the smile on the other man’s face turns slightly sad. “And you would try, wouldn’t you.” He shakes his head, his hair flaring in brightness from the movement before settling again. “You would die trying is what you would do. I am too-well guarded for a mere run-of-the-mill thief to snatch me from under my master’s nose.” Molly sputters in indignation at the slight, but the man keeps talking. “How do you know that I do not belong here? That I’m not locked away for a reason, that I am not dangerous, a threat. For all you know I could be a danger to the entire Empire were I set free. Would you take that risk, risk everyone you know and love, everything you hold dear, to free some random person you’ve never met?” The man steps closer, being careful not to touch the bars, and Molly is struck again by how blue his eyes are. “How do you know I would not burn your world to the ground given the chance?”

Molly looks the man over, just as he’d been looked at. For all the bravado of a moment ago, the man doesn’t look angry or aggressive. If anything he looks tired, resigned, and that’s what decides Molly.

“I don’t think you would, though.” The man quirks an eyebrow at Molly, and Molly’s grin widens. “You don’t look like the type. I bet you’re a real sweetheart.”

The man just stares at Molly for a moment then sighs again before turning back towards his pile of cushions. “More the fool you, then.”

“Can I at least get the name of the man I’m going to rescue?”

Molly doesn’t see it, but he can practically _feel_ the eyeroll the other man gives before looking back over his shoulder at Molly. “You can call me Caleb. Though if you are smart, you will leave and not return.” Caleb sits again amidst his pile of cushions and picks up his book. “You may want to leave soon, though, my master should be returning any minute.”

Molly curses, realizing that he’s completely forgotten himself, where he is, and realizes that Caleb is right. Time’s gotten away from him, and if he doesn’t want to get caught, he has to go. It rankles him to leave Caleb behind, for all that he hardly knows the man. He lets the curtain fall back into place and quickly goes back the way he’s come, nipping out a partially hidden side door just as a carriage starts its way up to the front door.

He knows Caleb can’t possibly hear him, but as he makes his way back through the streets of Rexentruum, Molly vows to him he’ll be back, and he will get Caleb out.

 

It’s weeks before Molly can go back, and he feels each minute acutely, wondering if Caleb is alright, if he’s safe, if he’ll still be there the next time it’s safe for Molly to sneak in. The night comes, Ikithon gone off again to another party; there will be lots more parties in the coming weeks, Molly knows. The people of the Empire don’t celebrate the winter holidays the same way the people of Tal’dorei do, but there’s still an air of excitement and merriment in the approach to New Dawn, a break from the lull of the bleak winter months that pervades no matter how harsh the grip of the Empire on its people, to the point that not even the King himself is exempt from it.

And so it is that Molly finds himself sneaking once more into the house of Archmage Ikithon. As before, the house is quiet and the lights dim as he makes his way back to the second floor and towards the study. He listens carefully as he enters, knowing this time that there’s likely to be someone inside, and there’s the faint flutter of a page turning from behind the shimmering curtain.

Caleb’s still here.

Molly checks the rest of the study first, not so distracted that he’s willing to risk his safety by being negligent, but there’s nobody hiding in the shadows, no indication that there’s anyone other than him in the main part of the room. He creeps to the draped curtains again, taking a hold to pull them back. As he does, his fingers inadvertently brush against the bars and there’s a bright flare of light and a spark; he yelps, yanking his fingers back, to find his fingers singed and tender. There’s a rustle of movement from the other side of the curtain, and a cautious voice calls out.

“ _Hallo_?”

“It’s, uh...it’s me again, hi Caleb.”

There’s the whisper of padding footsteps on the other side of the curtain and then from much closer, “ _Hallo_ again. I would greet you by name, but I don’t know what it is.”

Molly smacks himself in the face gently. Gods, he hadn’t even told Caleb his name.

“My name is-”

“ _Nein_ , no. Do not tell me, please. I cannot be pressed to tell something I do not know.”

Molly- with a great deal more care this time- plucks at the curtain and pulls it aside to see Caleb standing on the other side of the bars, looking much the same as he did the last time, though his robes are now a deep sapphire blue, matching his eyes almost exactly. Caleb’s skin gleams gold in the low light of his cell, and both his skin and hair look all the brighter for the contrast of the blues he’s wearing. Caleb’s eyes flick down to Molly’s hand, the injured one that he still has pulled in against his chest, and Caleb’s eyes soften. “I hope it did not hurt you too badly. The ward on the bars is mostly intended as a preventative measure.”

Molly smiles, lowering his hand back to his side; it smarts, but it’s nothing some salve or a quick chat with Jester or Caduceus won’t fix later. “No, it’s fine. More surprised than hurt, you know?”

Caleb nods, and again, they both just look at each other. After a moment Molly realizes that neither of them is saying anything, and he coughs, warmth flushing over his neck and face as his tail flicks behind him in agitation. “So, I’m here to get you out.”

Caleb shakes his head. “While I appreciate your inclination to help someone you perceive as in danger, you will not be able to free me. It is not worth the risk to yourself to do so. Even if you could touch the bars without shocking yourself, even if you could get the door to the bars open somehow, I could not go with you. I am forbidden from crossing the line of the bars without Master Ikithon’s permission.” Molly notices a hint of something in Caleb’s voice at Ikithon’s name, and Molly wonders, not for the first time, what Caleb’s life here is like.

“What happens if you try?”

Caleb’s mouth turns down into a frown, his expression clouding over. “You will not leave things _be_ , will you. Not until I prove to you it is impossible. My word isn’t good enough.”

“I didn’t say that.” Worry starts to bubble up in Molly’s chest; none of this encounter is going how he’d expected.

“I tell you I cannot leave, and you argue. I tell you it isn’t safe for you here, and you disregard my words. I fail to see how anything other than a direct demonstration will get through to you.”

Molly opens his mouth to argue again when Caleb lifts one foot- the one with the gold bangle at the ankle, same as last time- and puts it ever so slightly through the bars before Molly can try to stop him.

The effect on Caleb is immediate as the bangle- no, as the _cuff_ , Molly realizes- flashes a bright blue and Caleb’s whole body seizes. Caleb falls to the ground with a strangled cry, and Molly can only watch, horrified, as Caleb doesn’t move for a minute, just laying there trembling. Eventually Caleb picks himself up, arms shaking as he gets to his knees and sits back on his heels, looking up at Molly.

“As I said,” Caleb whispers, his voice quiet and hoarse, laced with bitterness. “I cannot leave. I am far too valuable for Ikithon to have taken any but the utmost precautions in order to keep me right where he wants me. It has been that way for years now, oh noble hero, and it will be that way for years to come, regardless of what _you_ want, what _I_ want, or anyone other than Ikithon himself wants.”

Molly is still speechless, can’t begin to fathom what he could say that could help; if there even _is_ anything he could say that would help. In the end he says nothing as Caleb pushes back to his feet, swaying slightly, looking unutterably tired.

“If you don’t mind, fair hero, I will ask you to take your leave. I need to be sure I am once again as Master Ikithon expects upon his return. I would also ask you to not come again, but I of course am powerless to stop you.” Caleb waves his hand dismissively, not bothering to look back at Molly as he limps to his cushion pile, curling up with his back to Molly. “Do whatever you wish, I suppose.”

Molly lets the curtain fall back to the bars again, and sees himself out. It’s early yet, and there’s no sign of Ikithon’s return, but Molly still doesn’t dally. It wouldn’t do to be found lurking around.

As much as it pains him to leave Caleb behind again, he tries to take comfort in the fact that he knows more now than he did before. He pictures Caleb’s face- beautiful, tired, sad, resigned- and knows he’ll do anything it takes to get Caleb out.

 

There are other opportunities for Molly to go back to Ikithon’s house, and he takes them, though he doesn’t do more than peer behind the curtain to make sure Caleb is still there. He carefully cases the building, never taking anything, hardly daring to breathe, but making sure he knows the place as well as he can. He feels the press of time the closer it gets to New Dawn, knowing that soon the season of parties and merriment will be behind them, and it will become much harder to find a good time to sneak in. His time is running out and he knows if he’s to get Caleb out, it must be soon.

He makes a last trip to check, to be sure, and though Caleb lies with his back to him, for all intents and purposes ignoring him, Molly says it, wants him to know.

“I’m coming back for you, Caleb, I won’t leave you here again. The next time is the last time. I will get you out, I swear it.”

The only sign he gets that Caleb’s heard him is a slight hitch in Caleb’s shoulders where he’s curled up on his pillow pile. Molly doesn’t know what the reaction means, but he hopes that Caleb knows he means what he says, that he has every intent of walking out with Caleb on his next visit. He’s almost ready.

 

Time is perilously short, New Dawn only days away, and when Molly catches wind that Ikithon is off to another ball, he knows it’s time. He reassures the others he doesn’t need help, that he’ll be fine. He doesn’t tell them that if he fails he doesn’t want anyone other than him to suffer the consequences, that going up against Ikithon, stealing something so obviously valuable from him, is likely to draw down a manhunt such as the Empire has never seen before.

It’s worth it, he tells himself. It’s worth it to save Caleb. He’s not sure why he feels so strongly about it, but he does. Some of it is of course Caleb’s beauty, Molly would be lying if he denied that. But he also remembers Caleb’s resignation, his utter belief that he’ll always be a prisoner, always be captive, that there’s no other way, and that doesn’t sit right with Molly. People deserve to be free, to be allowed to live their lives, and as Molly sees it he’s in the unique position to be able to help Caleb live his.

 

Molly sneaks into Ikithon’s house for the last time, and it’s just as quiet as every other visit. The halls are silent as he makes his way to the second floor, the halls dim as he passes towards Ikithon’s study. The door opens quietly, just as it has on every other visit, and a quick scan of the main part of the room shows it empty again. Molly moves to the curtained portion of the room and this time instead of peeking behind the curtain, he grabs it and yanks down. There’s brief resistance, and then the sound of tearing fabric as the curtain falls, puddling on the floor in front of the bars. Inside, Caleb isn’t sitting as he normally is, but is standing, appearing to have stopped mid-step as his head whips to the side and catches sight of Molly. His eyes go wide, an expression flickering across his face that Molly quickly places as fear.

“It’s alright, it’s just me, I told you, I’m here to get you out.”

Molly’s already digging around in one of his pouches as Caleb comes to the bars across from him.

“ _Bitte_ , please, you must leave, you must _go_ , he will catch you, you have to _run_.”

Molly finds the small gem he’s looking for and taps it against the lock of the barred door. There’s a small flash and then the quiet _thunk_ of the lock as the door swings open under Molly’s touch, no sparks this time. Caleb steps back from the door as Molly moves in, and the whole while, Caleb is still pleading with him.

“I am begging you, do you want me on my knees, I will do that, just- you have been so kind, I cannot- you must _run_ , you idiot man, why won’t you _run_ , have you no common sense-?”

Molly ignores him, dropping to his knees at Caleb’s feet, looking up to ask permission, hand outstretched towards the hem of Caleb’s robes- burgundy again, tonight- to access the anklet.

Caleb looks down at him, his face anguished, but nods, and Molly lifts the robe and takes Caleb’s leg, gently guiding it so Caleb can rest his foot on Molly’s knee. Caleb places a hand on Molly’s shoulder for balance, and Molly is amazed at the heat pouring off of Caleb, easily seeping though the leather of his vest and the thin fabric of his leggings. He checks the anklet and finds the lock, more basic than he’d been worried about, and gets his lock picks out, working at it. The whole while Caleb doesn’t fight, lets him work, but is quietly telling him to leave, to run, to get out. Molly continues to ignore him, focusing on the task at hand.

At last the lock clicks open and the anklet falls off to the ground with a quiet thump. Molly runs his thumb over Caleb’s ankle, over the warm, smooth golden scales, looking up just in time to catch the shiver that runs through Caleb at the sensation. Molly puts his tools away and rolls up to his feet again, then holds a hand out to Caleb.

“I told you I’d get you out. You’re not beholden to me- once we’re free from the house you can go wherever you want, do whatever you want, and I’ll do my best to help you get there. I just need you to trust me. I won’t hurt you.”

Caleb looks near to tears, but doesn’t say anything, lips pressed firmly together. He puts his hand in Molly’s and follows when Molly exits the cell, only hesitating slightly before crossing the threshold. Molly turns to look at Caleb, to tell him how well he’s doing, but Caleb’s eyes are focused over Molly’s shoulder, staring further into the room, and he looks terrified.

“Well, you are a resourceful little bastard, aren’t you.”

Molly freezes, and time slows as he turns toward the desk on the other side of the room. Sitting in the chair is Trent Ikithon, elbows resting on the desktop and fingertips steepled in front of his mouth.

Behind Molly, Caleb is whispering words that Molly realizes are apologies.

“I’m sorry, I am _so_ sorry, I did not want to tell him, he forced me, I’m so sorry, _es tut mir Leid_ , forgive me, _please-_ ”

“It’s alright, Caleb.” Molly hardly recognizes his own voice, hollow-sounding as he speaks past the ringing in his ears. He’d known this might happen, known it was a hazard. It’s why he hadn’t let the others help, after all.

Ikithon pushes back his chair and stands from his desk, gesturing at Caleb without taking his eyes off of Molly.

“You’ve done very well, Bren. Go back to your room now and I will deal with you shortly. You’ve been helpful, your punishment will be minimal.”

From the corner of Molly’s eye he sees Caleb shrink in on himself and nod, though he doesn’t immediately move.

Molly focuses his full attention back to Ikithon, his temper rising and magic imbuing his next words.

“You’re a real dick, did you know that? Anyone ever call you ‘Dickithon’ before?”

The magic slides off Ikithon and his lips turn down in a frown; Molly only has a second before Ikithon’s flicking his fingers in Molly’s direction, a line of flame zipping across the space and impacting on Molly’s shoulder. He stumbles slightly before reaching up to clutch at the wound. A few seconds go by and Ikithon sends another at him, hitting him in the other shoulder, toying with him. Molly stifles a sound of pain, and from behind him he hears a wordless cry of distress.

“Master, _please-_ ”

“No, Bren.” Ikithon’s words are dismissive, definitive, and Molly hears a quiet whimper from behind him. Ikithon comes around the desk, advancing on Molly, but Molly’s still got a trick up his sleeve. He swipes his fingertips through the blood on his shoulders and _concentrates_ on Ikithon, taking a certain satisfaction in watching the man’s eyes cloud over black before ichor starts to bleed from them. The archmage growls in his throat, but his next shot of flame goes wide, bouncing harmlessly off the bars of Caleb’s cell. Ikithon blinks, his eyes clearing, and his face twists into a scowl.

“ _Enough_.” Ikithon’s hands twist as he utters a word, and Molly has just long enough to hear Caleb’s panicked shout behind him before streaks of fire explode from Ikithon’s hands and hit him dead on. Molly crumples to the floor, his whole chest burning, and he doesn’t have to look to know the wound is fatal. Beau is going to come after him just so she can punch his ghost; he hopes she won’t punch him too hard.

“Bren, I said to get back in your room. Do not make this worse for yourself.”

“ **_No._ **”

Caleb’s voice, though shaking, echoes with power, and Molly isn’t sure if he’s imagining the temperature in the room rising or not. He’s having trouble moving, but Caleb’s stepped forward now and Molly can see him if looks up. Caleb is _radiant_ , clothes and hair rippling in a non-existent breeze. Caleb raises an arm, palm out toward Ikithon, and Molly could swear Caleb’s eyes are glowing, the sapphire of his eyes blazing.

“You have commanded me enough for one lifetime, I think.”

There’s a flash of flame so bright Molly has to close his eyes, though the light still shows through his eyelids, a brilliant orange _yellow_ **_white_ **. Ikithon screams, but it doesn’t last more than a moment before it dies out. The light dims, and when Molly opens his eyes again he still sees shadows burned across his vision.

“Well done, Caleb-”

Molly’s eyes keep sliding shut without his say so, which is a real shame because Caleb’s dropped to his knees at Molly’s side, lovely even in his distress, hands fluttering around him. “Why would you _taunt_ him, you idiotic, stupid, _unmöglich_ -”

“Seemed like a good idea at the time.” Molly doesn’t realize his eyes have slid shut again until Caleb slaps his face.

“ _Arschloch_ , you cannot die on me, I do not even know your _name_ -”

“Moll’mauk.” Oh. He’s slurring now, that’s probably bad. “Molly t’ my friends.”

“Molly.” Caleb’s hands are hot against Molly’s face, and he doesn’t know if it’s shock setting in or just that Caleb runs warm. “Molly I refuse to accept this. We are friends now, _ja_ ? You came back as you said, and it is _rude_ to just run off on me now, leaving me here all alone in this mess.” Molly can hear the tears in Caleb’s voice, but as much as he wants to assure Caleb it will be alright, he’s unwilling to lie to Caleb’s face. Not now, not after everything.

“‘m sorry.” Molly blindly pats around for Caleb’s hand and is relieved when he feels the scalding heat of Caleb’s fingers wrapping around his. “Tried.”

There’s the sound of a wet laugh above him. “ _Ja_ , I know you did.”

Molly’s drifting, and he knows it won’t be long; he’s sad to be going, but he’s glad that at least he’s not alone.

Caleb’s hand squeezes his tightly, and he can vaguely hear the sound of crying. He feels something happening, amazed he can feel _anything_ past the the ruin that Ikithon left behind, but he can’t deny he feels it _._ There are twinges in his chest and shoulders, but the burn is lessening. He thinks maybe this is it, that he’s dying and that’s why it doesn’t hurt anymore, but then Caleb, voice hushed with awe, calls to him.

“Mollymauk, open your eyes.”

At first he doesn’t think he’ll be able to, but much to his surprise Molly’s eyes open with no problem. He glances down his chest and while his clothes and leathers are mostly gone, burned away, the skin underneath is whole and unmarred.

“Wow-” Molly runs his fingertips over his chest, up over his shoulders, but there’s no pain, no discomfort of any sort; his skin isn’t even tight like it is sometimes after healing. He gets his hands on the floor to push off and feels Caleb’s hands, hot against the skin of his back and shoulder as he helps Molly up to sitting.

Molly looks over to where Caleb is kneeling next to him looking stunned, silvery tear tracks running down his face. Molly reaches a hand out towards Caleb’s face, half expecting Caleb to pull away, but Caleb doesn’t, in fact leans in towards Molly’s hand. Molly cups Caleb’s jaw and runs his thumb over his cheek, wiping away some of the tears. His thumb tingles pleasantly where it swipes through, the tears turning his thumb a pearlescent silver for a moment.

“Huh.”

“ _Ja_.” Caleb coughs, looking almost sheepish. “My tears have certain, uh, restorative effects.”

“Well, while I don’t enjoy seeing you cry, I’m very grateful for your help.”

Caleb gives a laugh that’s still a bit damp at the edges, and he reaches up to wipe at his face. “I have given much over the time I’ve spent here, Mr. Mollymauk, my tears the least of it. At least this time it was of my own free will. I was glad to help you.”

“Thank you, Caleb.” Molly grins, using his hand on Caleb’s face to draw him in and place a light kiss to Caleb’s forehead. When he pulls back he’s delighted to see Caleb’s face is flushed a slightly pinkish gold. Molly pulls back the rest of the way so that he can get to his feet, holding a hand out to help Caleb up. Molly looks over towards the desk, not sure what he expects to see, but there’s not much of Ikithon left but a dark smudge on the ground and a few burnt scraps of fabric. Caleb goes over and pokes around, coming back to his feet with some sort of charm on a necklace. He grips it in his fist and smiles at Molly. “This will come in handy for me later, but in the meantime, if it is alright with you, I will happily accept that rescue now.”

Molly waits while Caleb gathers a few things in a pillowcase- a few sets of robes to wear, some of his books- and then they head to the door of the study. Caleb pauses at the threshold, and when Molly turns back to look, Caleb shrugs with a small smile. “It’s been a very long time since I have left this room.”

Molly smiles at him, and he knows it’s the sort of soft that he’ll get teased about when they get back to everyone else, but right now he doesn’t care. He holds his hand out to Caleb. “I’ll keep you safe, Caleb, promise. Trust me?”

Caleb eyes Molly’s hand, his own fingers flexing around his grip on the pillowcase before reaching one out to place it in Molly’s. His return smile is small, but genuine.

“ _Ja_ , I trust you, Molly.”

Together they leave Ikithon’s house and go out into the wide world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _bitte_ \- please  
>  _es tut mir Leid_ \- I'm sorry  
>  _unmöglich_ \- impossible  
>  _Arschloch_ \- asshole


	2. Modern Fluff AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short but very very sweet :)

Waking up is a slow process.

Caleb drifts up out of sleep, small things beginning to catch his attention. He’s comfortable, cozy, the blankets a reassuring weight over him and the bed a soft cradle beneath him. It’s quiet still in their apartment, most of the tenants in their building not up yet. The hum of noise from the street below is quiet, muffled but wet-sounding, and Caleb realizes it must have snowed overnight.

Next to him there’s a shift, gentle movement as Molly sighs before settling again. The light from the window is dim through the curtain, but Caleb can just start to make out Molly’s face, slack and soft with sleep, his eyelashes painting a dark smudge against his cheeks. This close Caleb can see the very light smattering of freckles across the bridge of Molly’s nose, the ones that always darken in the summer months and lighten again over the winter. He knows Molly isn’t a fan of them, but he is; he thinks they’re sweet.

Caleb moves, and realizes Molly’s tail is wound loosely around his ankle, a living tether. Warmth burbles up through him even though he knows Molly probably didn’t do it on purpose; on the other hand, that almost makes it mean _more_ , that even in his sleep, even unconscious, Molly wants him close.

Molly's hair is inky in the dim light, though the sunlight is moving across the bed behind him, peeking through a break in the curtain to highlight his curls, giving him a soft halo; motes of dust float lazily through the light, lit up like flecks of gold. Not for the first time, Caleb wishes he had any affinity for the arts, that he had a way to easily capture moments like this; the camera on his phone doesn’t feel like enough. His memory is exemplary, and he knows he'll remember, but he wishes he could show Molly how he looks, could get Molly to see himself the way Caleb sees him.

The blankets have slid down during the night, baring the curve of Molly’s shoulder, the elegant line of his neck. For his part, Caleb is nestled further down against the pillows, the blankets coming up to his nose. He tugs the blankets higher on Molly, covering him again before moving his hand over to rest lightly on Molly’s side. The skin under his hand is warm and soft, his thumb finding the occasional bump of a raised scar as he sweeps it back and forth.

It’s early, and cozy, and neither of them have anywhere to be today. Caleb’s thumb continues to sweep back and forth absently as he considers possible plans for the day. Coffee is absolutely on the list, though whether they make it here or venture out into the snow to get it from their favorite shop remains to be seen. He knows there’s a movie marathon Molly’s interested in watching, and he likes the idea of curling up on the couch together under a blanket, him reading while Molly watches his shows; he knows the soft hush of falling snow will only make them feel more like they’re in their own little bubble, and the more he thinks about it, the less he feels like sharing Molly with the world today.

There’s a quiet snuffle, and then Molly’s eyes are slitting open, a faint glint of red visible from beneath his lashes. His eyes focus on Caleb, and his lips tilt up in a sleepy smile.

“Morning, love.”

It shouldn’t be a surprise to Caleb- he is, for all intents and purposes, a very smart man- but it suddenly hits him with all the subtlety of Beau on a bender that he wants to do this forever. He wants to lie next to Molly, to hear him breathe as he falls asleep and as he wakes up. He wants Molly to be the first thing he sees each morning and the last thing he sees each night. He wants to see Molly’s laundry mixed in with his, to see his toothbrush on the counter. He wants Molly to fuss at him for not sleeping enough, for drinking too much coffee. He wants to be dragged out on crazy adventures just because Molly decides he hasn’t seen the sun in too long, or to have nights in because Molly’s learned to cook something new.

He just wants _Molly_ , always.

It hits him in the space of a heartbeat, not even enough time for Molly to blink more than a couple of times before the feeling bubbles up from Caleb’s chest and out his mouth.

“Marry me?”

Molly blinks at him, brow furrowing slightly, and Caleb feels Molly’s tail tighten around his ankle.

“What?”

Caleb swallows, his throat gone dry with the realization of what he’s just said.

“Marry me?”

There’s the briefest pause where Caleb thinks he’s made a mistake, and he’s already trying to figure out how to backtrack when Molly breaks into a grin, bright enough to shame the sun.

“Really?”

Hope flutters in Caleb’s stomach. “ _Ja_?”  
Molly’s grin widens even as his expression softens. He reaches for Caleb’s hand where it’s still resting along his ribs and laces their fingers together, pulling Caleb’s hand up to kiss his knuckles.

“Of _course_ I’ll marry you, love. I’d be delighted.”

Caleb has to close his eyes against the brilliance of Molly’s smile; it’s blinding, and overwhelming, and oh gods, they’re going to get _married_.

There’s a quiet huff of laughter, and then Molly’s pressing his lips to Caleb’s fingers again. There’s a trace of fond amusement in his words when he speaks. “Did you honestly think I’d say no?”

“I don’t know _what_ I thought, _schatz_ , but I’m glad you said yes all the same.”

“Of course I said yes.” Molly squeezes his hand, his tail rippling gently in its hold around Caleb’s ankle. “I can’t imagine a world in which I’d have said no, love.”

Caleb laughs, though it’s slightly damp at the edges, and Molly tuts, letting go of Caleb’s hand so he can reach and pull him close against his chest, tucking Caleb’s head under his chin after pressing a kiss to his hair. Caleb winds his arms around Molly, burying his nose against the hollow of Molly’s throat as Molly holds him.

It’s early yet, still quiet, for all that Caleb’s world has just shifted pleasantly on its axis. He knows there will be lots to do later- people to tell, arrangements to make, plans to organize- but in this moment, none of that’s important. In this moment, right now, he’s in Molly’s arms and has all he needs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _schatz_ \- treasure


	3. Firefly AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly doesn’t know what to make of the mysterious man in the box.
> 
> He’s unconscious when they pull him out- nude, pale, and shivering in the harsh fluorescents of the cargo bay. They get him to the infirmary, Caduceus bustling around with heated blankets and IVs while everyone else watches from the observation window nearby. Beau is the only other person in the room, ready to intervene if the man wakes up violent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The wonderful art in this chapter is from the amazing [LimeyBlueArt](https://twitter.com/LimeyBlueArt) on twitter. Go throw some love at them :)
> 
> Warnings for Caleb backstory stuff, as well as spoilers for episodes 61 and forward.

Molly doesn’t know what to make of the mysterious man in the box.

He’s unconscious when they pull him out- nude, pale, and shivering in the harsh fluorescents of the cargo bay. They get him to the infirmary, Caduceus bustling around with heated blankets and IVs while everyone else watches from the observation window nearby. Beau is the only other person in the room, ready to intervene if the man wakes up violent.

It turns out to be unnecessary.

The man, when he does wake up, immediately goes into a panic and falls off the table in his effort to get away from Caduceus. He doesn’t seem to either notice or care about the trickles of blood on his arm where he’s pulled the IVs out, or that he’s naked. He sits curled in a ball in the corner, rocking and muttering to himself. After a few moments Caduceus convinces Beau to go wait with the others and spends the next half hour speaking quietly and calmly to the man until finally he unfolds enough for Caduceus to give him a set of scrubs to put on.

Caduceus gently cajoles him back onto the table, covered in blankets again, and agrees to forgo the IVs if the man drinks some warm tea with honey.

Everyone minus Yasha, who’s helping Caduceus, meets in the mess hall while this is happening to discuss what to do with their new passenger.

“I say we drop him at the nearest port and good luck to him.”

“ _Fjord_!” Jester’s voice is horrified, and she smacks him hard on the shoulder if his wince is any indication. “We can’t just leave that poor man somewhere. We don’t know anything about him!”  
“Exactly! We know nothing about him, Jester. We don’t know who he is, where he’s come from, who he’s hiding from. For all we know the Empire is looking for him, and in case you ain’t noticed, we can’t exactly afford that sorta scrutiny.”

“I agree with Jester.” Fjord turns to Nott with a huff of exasperation, but she cuts him off, pointing her wrench at him. “Don’t you use that tone of expression with me. We all saw what kind of state he was in. He needs _help_ , Fjord, not to be just...dumped like a kitten at the side of the road.”

Fjord runs a hand over his face. “None of you have a lick of sense. Beau, tell me you’re not on their side.”  
“Well, I mean. I get where you’re coming from, bossman, but they do have a point. And really, anything that gets the Empire’s feathers in a ruffle is something I feel we should maybe do just on principle.”

Fjord groans, then turns to Molly. “Should I even ask your opinion?”

Molly smiles. “Need I remind you, good captain, I am not one of your crew. Though I do happen to agree with them. That poor man looks like he needs about a year’s worth of good meals and sleep somewhere comfortable, not to be cast out into the unforgiving world.”

“Suffering host,” Fjord mutters, then straightens up to his full height. “Well, y’all put your opinions in, but I would just like to remind you that I am _Captain_ of this fine ship, and it ain’t a democracy. What I say goes.”

Molly leans back against the railing behind him, and waits for the fireworks he can see starting to spark in Beau and Nott’s expressions. Surprisingly, Jester beats them to it.

“Okay, Captain!”

Everyone looks over at Jester, but she’s grinning, all her attention on Fjord. “I hope you enjoy driving your own ship, though, because if you dump that guy, I’m going with him. So, you know, good luck.”

Before Fjord can sputter a response Nott is nodding and moving to stand next to Jester. “Yeah. And I hope you’ve still got all the repair manuals for the ship, cause I’m going, too.”

Fjord glances over to Beau, and she shrugs.

“Nah, I’m not going anywhere. I’d be a shitty first mate if I left. However I will judge you super hard and give you so much shit if you act like a sanctimonious asshole. Just so you know.”

“Well hell.” Fjord sighs, the fight gone out of him. “I suppose it can’t hurt to let him stay a few days, get his feet under him before we find out where he wants to go.”

Jester lets out a whoop of joy, quickly followed by Nott, and that’s that.

The man- Caleb, he says- stays in the infirmary for the next two days while Caduceus gets him to a more stable condition. He’s woefully thin, and his pale skin makes the exhausted bruising under his eyes stand out harshly. His red hair is dull and greasy, and once Caduceus releases him, Jester, showing a surprising amount of tact, offers to show Caleb where the showers are if he’d like to get cleaned up.

He doesn’t talk much, this mysterious Caleb, and of course that only makes Molly burn with curiosity. He emerges from his shower in a pair of scrub pants and one of Caduceus’s spare sweatshirts, his hair fluffy and much brighter now that it’s clean. The shirt is far too large on Caleb’s thin frame, but it’s soft and cozy, and he appears to enjoy the ability to pull the hood up and hide almost entirely inside.

At Fjord’s insistence, Caleb explains himself; Molly isn’t usually prone to fits of anger, but even he feels inclined toward a spot of violence on Caleb’s behalf as he speaks.

He’d been a student at the Soltryce Academy, a prestigious school run by the Empire in the inner rings. Lots of people pay dearly to go there, to send their children there, and his had as well.

“My family, when I was growing up, we didn’t have a lot. We were farmers on one of the smaller agriculture planets, Zemni, that helps provide crops for the inner ring. I was very smart, and my parents wanted what was best. They always did.”

He pauses, fiddling with the cup of tea Caduceus had given him before he started speaking. “ _Ja_ , so, off I went, to the Academy. It is everything they say it is and more. Lots of very smart instructors, lots of books. It was wonderful. Until it wasn’t.”

He stops again, struggling for words, and when he starts again it’s like a dam has been broken, the words tumbling out.

“There was an instructor, Trent-” he swallows, taking a sip of tea as his mouth goes dry. “Trent Ikithon. A very powerful man. Very smart, very knowledgeable. A scientist. A scholar, an innovator in his field. And he selected _me_ , along with a few others from Zemni who’d also managed to attend the Academy, to study with him. It was everything I thought I wanted. It was a pleasure to learn, a pleasure to soak up every little thing he would teach us. But I was blinded, by my thirst for knowledge at any cost. I thought I’d give _anything_ , but I didn’t know how much there was to give. How much there was for them to _take_. I was ill-prepared.”

He goes quiet, and Fjord makes an impatient noise but Jester elbows him. Molly can see the poor man’s hands shaking and puts his own over Caleb’s and squeezes, smiling gently when Caleb glances up at him.

“In your own time dear. There’s no rush.”

“Do you-” Caleb looks around the group, watching everyone’s faces. “Do you know the Scourgers?”

And of course they do. _Everyone_ knows what a Scourger is, the mindless soulless beasts of the Empire, roaming the planets in search of traitors, those the Empire deemed a problem.

“They were trying to develop the, uh, the next variation. Scourgers, but not mindless, or not entirely. Just as ruthless, just as focused, but with more control, more of a precision weapon than a bomb blast, _ja_? And they were partially successful. The Vollstrecker were partially successful.”

There’s stunned silence for a moment before Beau asks, “Were you- were you one of them? One of the Voll-whatever-the-fucks?”

“ _Ja_ , I was. Or, they were training me to be, but there was the small problem of my not losing my independent will the way they expected, the way I was supposed to. I maintained free will and that is not useful in a weapon. Weapons aren’t meant to question. Weapons aren’t meant to ask if their target really deserves what’s happening to them. Trent didn’t understand why I wasn’t working properly. So he endeavored to find out.”

Caleb rubs at his arm through the sweatshirt sleeve. “He tried very hard to discover why I was different, what the ‘anomaly’ was, as he called it. I’m not sure at what point he gave up. I was quite mad by then.”

There’s a muttered ‘ _Fuckin’ hell.’_ from Fjord, echoed by Beau, but it’s Jester that asks, “Caleb...how old were you when they- when they took you for training?”

Caleb’s eyes flick down to his hands. “Young. I was- young.”

On Molly’s other side, Yasha clears her throat, her voice barely audible. “How young is ‘young’?”

Caleb tugs at his sleeves, tucking his hands inside after setting his teacup down. “I was fifteen when Ikithon first tapped me for special training. I was perhaps seventeen when I broke. Things are a bit fuzzy for a while there, I’m sure you understand.”

Fjord pushes his chair back from the table with an impressive string of curses and gets up to pace around the room.

“Mr. Caleb.”

He glances up at Molly, and Molly is having difficulty reconciling this man, this gentle, lost-looking man as the monster he’s described himself to be.

“How did you get from madness to a box in our cargo hold?”

“Ah, one of the nurses at the asylum Trent had me committed to helped me. I am not sure what they did, precisely, but one day the clouds lifted and I was me again, for whatever that’s worth. I don’t remember quite what happened, but that she said she was going to help me to get out. The next thing I remember clearly was waking up in your infirmary.”

“Do you know what happened to the nurse?” Nott asks, and Caleb shakes his head.  
“ _Nein_. I don’t even know her name.”

Beau’s expression is calculating, her brow furrowed in thought. “If you were seventeen...how old are you _now_ , Caleb?”

“Based on the current year as I understand it to be, I’m thirty-three. I lost quite a bit of time I’m afraid.”

That sets off another round of exclamations, and Molly can’t quite believe what all the poor man has been through, what the Empire has _put_ him through. He has a sudden thought, and it’s slipping out his mouth before he can think to stop it.

“Caleb, what about your parents? Do they know you’re alive?”

Caleb pales, his lips pressing into a thin line for a second before he answers. “Ah, they- they are quite deceased. Our final test for the Vollstrecker was to...to dispatch our parents, our families. A weapon with outside attachments and divided loyalties isn’t a good thing. It makes things messy, complicated.”

There’s a quiet gasp from Jester and further cursing from Fjord and Beau, and when Molly squeezes his hand, Caleb shakes his head.

“I did not kill them. That was the problem, as Trent saw it. I was going to. I knew how I was to do it, but at the last moment I could not. He had the others hold me back as he did it himself, while I was forced to watch. There was nothing I could do. After, he had me brought back to his lab, and well, you all know the rest after that.”

Caduceus refills Caleb’s cup, and he gratefully takes a sip, the warmth helping calm him.

“The issue now is that if Trent knows I am missing, and surely he must by now, that he will stop at nothing to get me back. I am an inconvenient loose end. I am dangerous. If the federated system were to find out what the Empire is up to, what they are doing, it would cause chaos, could possibly instigate an uprising, and that would be problematic to say the least. I am a danger to you all. You should drop me on the nearest rock and be rid of me.”

There’s a burst of protest, along with Fjord’s sullen ‘ _Told you so_.’, but in the end, they don’t send him away. _Can’t_ send him away. The crew has already grown attached, and even Fjord begrudgingly admits that he likes the man, even if he thinks keeping him on-board is asking for trouble.

As the weeks pass, Molly gets to know Caleb better. Molly's pod becomes something of a haven for Caleb. When the rest of the ship is too loud, too harsh, too metallic and cold, he knows he's welcome at Molly's, where things are warm and soft, no hard edges to be found.

Molly finds he enjoys Caleb’s company; for as skittish as Caleb can be, he’s also incredibly sweet, thoughtful, and Molly begins to delight in finding new ways to make him smile.

He finds that Caleb enjoys tea more than coffee, and prefers herbal teas over actual tea. Caleb will easily get lost in a book to the utter detriment of everything else around him, surfacing sometimes hours later, eyes blinking owlishly in the gentle lights of the pod. He’s polite, speaks quietly, though with an attention to detail that Molly finds exceptional. They talk for hours, about all sorts of things, Caleb interested in learning anything Molly is willing to teach him, and Molly finds himself becoming more than a little smitten with the man, with his ability to maintain his innate curiosity, even after everything he’s been through.

It’s a month later when Caleb’s past catches up with him.

Jester’s voice goes out across ship-wide comms, panic making her words shrill. “Scourgers! Coming in hot!”

There’s a flurry of activity, people arming themselves as best they can. Caleb is with Molly when the call goes out, and Molly’s never seen anyone lose color so quickly.

“Love, are you alright?” Molly puts a steadying hand on Caleb’s arm and can feel the fine tremor running through him. Caleb wordlessly shakes his head, fingers twitching at his sides, a nervous habit Molly’s noticed before, but it’s worse now, and there’s nothing to be done.

The ship rocks and they stumble sideways, Molly grabbing Caleb’s arm for balance before they both take off running to find the others.

They happen upon Fjord and Beau, and not long after they find Nott and Yasha. Caduceus and Jester are the last two, and then they’re all together. They know they don’t stand much of a chance- they’re only a crew of eight, and they all know the reputation the Scourgers have.

“Okay, what we’re gonna do-” Fjord is checking over his blaster as he talks. “You all are gonna head to Molly’s pod, get inside and lock it. When I give the go-ahead, you’re gonna launch.”  
There’s an outburst of from the crew, but Fjord raises his voice over them to be heard. “I am the _captain_ of this goddamned ship, and if I tell you assholes to run, you’re gonna do it. I know you don’t listen to me about practically anything else, but this one gods be-damned time, you’re gonna, do you hear me?”

The ship rocks again, the sound of rending metal loud nearby, the sudden racket of booted feet coming from a corridor or two over.

Fjord pales, but turns to face the direction the noise is coming from, blaster raised. “Get your asses in gear! _Go_!”

They’re all looking at each other, trying to decide whether to ignore Fjord or run when Caleb steps forward, a hand light on Fjord’s shoulder.

“I will deal with it. They are here for me. You go with the rest, Fjord. If all goes well I will join you. If not, you should stay with your crew.”

“Caleb!” Molly is horrified, terrified that Caleb is just throwing his life away, though it’s not as if he wants Fjord to do the same, either. Fjord looks just as surprised, too stunned to stop Caleb as he steps forward, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt to his elbows, his spine straightening as he walks forward, toward the sound of the oncoming Scourgers. Yasha grabs Molly around the waist, hauling him with her as the rest of the group runs, and just as they’re turning the corner Molly could swear he sees flame flicker at Caleb’s fingertips.

They’re running, so at first they don’t hear it, but soon it’s impossible not to, the roar _whoosh_ of fire, the sounds of screaming. It’s all Yasha can do to keep a hold on Molly, to keep him from running back, until Beau points out none of the voices they hear are Caleb’s.

They make it to Molly’s pod and wait, locked inside, all of them tense, silent, waiting for either Caleb to reappear or for the Scourgers to come.

It feels like an eternity before there’s a light knock on the door to the pod, and when Molly checks the security feed, it’s just Caleb at the door.

Molly scrambles to get the door unlocked and open, and when he does, there’s Caleb, his face streaked with what looks like ash and soot, his eyes vacant and fingertips smoking slightly. He sways gently in place a moment, mutters, “ _Es ist alles gut._ " just before he crumples, Molly barely catching him in time to keep his head from bouncing off the floor. Between Jester and Yasha they get him to Molly’s bed while Fjord and Beau go to clear the rest of the ship. Caleb’s surprisingly uninjured, though he’s shaking and cool to the touch.

“I think he’s in shock.” Caduceus says after checking him over. “He looks exhausted by whatever it was he did. I suggest, if you’re amenable, Molly, that we have him stay here for now. We can add some more blankets to help keep him warm, see if we can get him to drink something hot and sweet when we can. But for now, let him rest.”

Caleb wakes a few hours later.

He has a headache, but that's not uncommon after he overreaches his abilities. He knows it will improve given time and rest. He's not sure what the others will think, though, whether they'll be horrified, pitying, or some cross between the two. People shouldn't be able to do what he does, and he's never sure how people will react

"You're awake!"

Caleb looks over to see Molly, sitting up from where he’d been slumped dozing in a chair, eyes still hooded with sleep, smiling gently at him.

" _Ja_ , I-" Caleb fiddles with a string from one of the blankets, then forced his hands still before he looks back up. "Thank you."

Molly's brow furrows. "Whatever for, dear? I feel it's us who should be thanking you."

Caleb flushes. "For not throwing me out an airlock, for one. And for bringing me here." He runs his fingertips over the bright colors of the patchwork quilt. "For letting me wake up somewhere kind."

“Caleb.” Molly’s voice is quiet and fond as he stands and moves to sit on the edge of the bed near Caleb’s side. “Of _course_ we didn’t throw you out an airlock, we would never. How could you think we would?”

 

 

 

“I, uh, I know I am not...normal.” He picks at the loose thread on the blanket, unable to meet Molly’s eyes. “I am...I am not sure what exactly they’ve made of me, Mr. Mollymauk, but I can do things nobody should be able to. I killed all of them today, every last one, and I was not sorry. They were going to hurt you all, and I could not let them. I have never wanted to use my abilities so much before, always before it was because they made me, because I had to. Today-” he takes a deep breath, shaking on the exhale, and gathers what little bravery he has to look back up at Molly, to meet his eyes. “Today I wanted to. Today I had something to protect, to defend.” He looks down again, hands fretting in his lap. “I could not let them hurt you.”

Molly reaches for Caleb’s hand and is delighted when Caleb not only lets him, but laces their fingers together, a small smile quirking at his lips; Molly decides then and there that it’s now his goal in life to get more of those small genuine smiles out of Caleb.

“I’m grateful for what you did today, Caleb. For saving me, for saving all of us. But I’m also glad that you’re alright, that you came back to us. I was so scared that I’d never see you again, that you’d die and-” Molly stops, his hand flexing against Caleb’s.

“-and?” Caleb prompts gently, rubbing his thumb over Molly’s knuckles.

Molly takes a deep breath and lets it out on a laugh. “And I wouldn’t have been able to tell you how I feel. The life of a Companion is an unusual one, Mr. Caleb. It’s wonderful, and full, and exciting, and I’ve met all sorts of people. Great people, terrible people. Just _people_ , in all the wonder, glory, and variety they have to offer. But do you know what, Caleb?”

“What, Mollymauk?”

“None of them were you.”

Caleb flushes a lovely shade of pink, and _yes_ , Molly thinks. He’ll need to be making _that_ happen more often as well.

“I can’t say that things will work out, darling. We, for better or worse live in exciting times. You appear to have the Empire after you, and I still have my work as a Companion to do. But if you’re amenable, Mr. Caleb, I’d like the chance to know you better. To learn more of your truths, if you’ll let me, and perhaps have you learn some of mine in turn.”

“I-” Caleb looks mildly stunned, and Molly is pleased to notice Caleb’s eyes keep slipping down to his lips. “ _Ja_ , Mr. Mollymauk, I believe I would be amenable.”

A smile works its way across Molly’s face, helpless to stop it, but he doesn’t care. This feels like the start of something new, something wonderful, and Molly’s always been fond of beginnings.

“Why don’t you rest, Caleb. I told Caduceus I’d let him know when you were awake so he could check you over, and I promised him I’d make you some tea as well.”

Before Molly can pull back, Caleb brings Molly’s hand up and brushes his lips over Molly’s knuckles with a smile, and it’s far more devastating than it has any right to be.

“ _Danke_ , Mr. Mollymauk.”

Molly is proud of how steady his voice is when he responds. “You’re quite welcome, Mr. Caleb.”

He pulls his hand back and stands, graceful and composed as always, but once his back is to Caleb he lets his smile grow to a delighted grin.

He wasn’t lying when he said there was no way to know if things would work out, but he’s willing to try, and he would lay even money on Caleb being willing to try as well. In the end, what more did they need than that?


	4. Star Wars AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darth Bren is a former Sith who broke under the strain and has been in hiding as Caleb Widogast. He shuns the Force, refusing to use it himself, but has agreed to help train the odd group of Force sensitive people who have appeared at his door.  
> Among them is a face he recognizes.  
> Now going by Mollymauk Tealeaf, Lucien was a Jedi-in-Training, one Caleb has faced before. But Molly has no memory of his past, doesn't remember who he used to be, what he used to be able to do, and Caleb has found himself growing very fond of the tiefling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit for this one goes to the lovely people of the Widomauk discord chat. We were spitballing the idea and the thought for this scenario comes from them. Hope you like it!

The marketplace is busy this time of day, merchants and customers yelling over each other, the bray of pack animals of all sorts competing with the sputtering rumbles of dust-clogged engines under the boiling suns. When it comes, the voice is low, almost a hiss, and it’s a surprise they hear it at all over the din around them.

“ _Lucien Tombtaker._ ”

It’s admirable, Caleb thinks, that Molly’s face barely twitches; his control is improving. Molly turns to face the man with a smile.

“I’m sorry, friend, you seem to have mistaken me for someone else. My name is Mollymauk Tealeaf, Molly to my friends. I hear I have one of those faces, though, so-”

The sound of the blaster shot is lost under the surrounding noise, but it’s oddly easy to hear the grunt of pain as Molly staggers back, colliding with him. Molly’s hand reaches up to clutch his shoulder, and Caleb can smell the burned fabric of Molly’s shirt, the twinge of ozone blaster shots carry if you pay attention.

There’s a single, crystalline moment where time seems to slow, the world going quiet, and then sound slams back in, screams shattering the air as the people around them scatter, running from whatever’s happening. Caleb manages to catch Molly as he slumps, dropping to his knees as he helps Molly gently to the ground. Caleb spares a glance for the wound; there’s a scorch mark on the fabric, but there doesn’t seem to be an exit on the back when he feels for it. From the look on Molly’s face it’s painful, but Caleb doesn’t think it’s life threatening. With proper treatment to ward off infection he’ll be fine.

The man with the blaster on the other hand-

As Caleb stands, rage bubbles up through him, his power sparking at his fingertips, ready and waiting for a target, to unleash vengeance on the man who would _dare_ harm Mollymauk, and in this perfectly clear, singular moment, he sees no good reason not to let it.

The man is still speaking, telling Caleb to stand back, that he’s taking Molly in for a bounty, still calling him Lucien, and Caleb sees red, his hand up and fingers reaching before he realizes he’s doing it. Red-orange energy crackles down his arm and sparks off his fingertips, jumping across the intervening space to strike the bounty hunter right in the chest.

The man is thrown back with a yell, landing on his back in the dust, and Caleb’s already advancing on him. The man raises the blaster again, but a flick of Caleb’s hand sends it flying off into the nearby stalls, and panic shades over the man’s face.

“Look, I don’t have any quarrel with you, okay? I’m just doing my job!”

Caleb’s hands clench at his sides and he doesn’t have to try for another streak of energy to zip forward. The man screams this time, and Caleb takes a cold satisfaction in the sound. It’s right, he thinks, that this man suffer for what he’s done. Another bolt is building in his hands even as he thinks it; he’s close now, only a few feet from the man despite how the bounty hunter is trying to scramble back.

“ _Caleb_.”

It takes a moment for the voice to register, but when it does Caleb can’t help but turn back, looking over his shoulder, head drawn like a magnet to Molly’s voice.

Molly is struggling to his feet, hand fluttering near his shoulder. He’s gone pale but his voice is soft and careful as he moves unsteadily toward Caleb. “Caleb, darling, he’s down, it’s okay, we can leave. It’s done.”

He _hears_ the words, he does, but all he can seem to focus on is the wound on Molly’s shoulder, how his eyes have gone tight with pain, his tail flicking anxiously behind him, and Caleb’s head swivels back toward the man who did that, who shot first, who could have _killed_ Molly, and almost unbidden his hand raises again, energy gathering in his palm, sparking along his skin until he can feel the hair on his arms raise with it, can smell it on the air.

“He hurt you.”

The bolt looses, striking the hunter, and he screams, his voice weaker now, his body arching, no longer trying to get away. He’s begging, Caleb thinks; it’s difficult to tell past his sobbing cries. His anger isn’t dissipating, is still gathering like an oncoming storm, and he _remembers_ this, doesn’t know how he forgot the feel of it. His anger’s always felt cold, icy, and he can feel it flooding his veins now, giving him the power to keep Molly safe, to keep him protected against those that would harm him, those like _this_ man, who has the audacity to attack them. Who has the _nerve_ to try to steal Molly away from right in front of him, and his vision changes from red to gold, everything fading to monochromatic dullness. Everything except the man on the ground on front of him. Caleb sees _him_ with perfect clarity.

“Caleb, _please._ ”

There’s a hand on his arm, tugging his sleeve, and after a second Caleb realizes it’s Molly; he’s swaying slightly on his feet, but his eyes don’t leave Caleb’s face, and it’s then his expression registers.

It’s fear.

For the briefest second Caleb’s ready to turn the man at his feet to ash, but with a sudden stomach-churning lurch of dawning horror, he realizes it’s not the _man_ Molly’s afraid of.

It’s him.

His anger drains out of him quickly enough to leave him feeling weak and nauseous, the sparks fading from his hands, the aura of power dissipating as he realizes what he’s done, what he’s let himself do. Molly’s still speaking quietly, insistently, and the words fade in and out over the rush of blood in Caleb’s ears.

“It’s fine….down, he won’t...boss will wring his…’s okay, love, let’s just…”

Caleb sags into Molly’s touch, taking a ragged breath. Color bleeds back into his vision- the dusky purple of Molly’s skin, the shining red of his eyes, the garish colors of his coat- and he feels his emotions settle, the anger completely gone now, replaced by the familiar weight of self-loathing he normally carries. In a haze, he takes Molly’s hand where it rests on his arm, and gives it a squeeze before maneuvering them so Molly’s good arm is over his shoulder. Caleb ignores Molly’s protests as he slides an arm around Molly’s waist, steadying him, and turns them back the way they came; he needs to get Molly back so Jester can look him over, patch him up.

As they start to move, he feels Molly turn slightly in his grasp, back to face the man who still lies shuddering on the ground. There’s a gentle prickle of power over his skin that he recognizes as Molly pitches his voice to carry.

“You never saw us. You’re going to go home and think about your life.”

The man sounds dazed when he answers, voice flat, and if Caleb weren’t in the middle of a breakdown, he’d be more impressed.

“ _I never saw you. I’m going to go home and think about my life._ ”

Molly turns back to face forward, his breath catching with pain at the movement.

“Alright then, love, let’s go.”

And with that, Caleb leads them home.


	5. Hadestown AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “A love song/for anyone who tries"
> 
> The Hadestown AU

It goes like this-

Caleb meets Molly. They don’t have a lot- there’s hardship, and deprivation, but despite the odds, love comes, twining like vines around them, like the sweetest blooms of summer. Love blossoms under tender care and affection, warm and lush, blooming, growing, flowering, vibrant and abundant in the sun.

But summer doesn’t last forever, and love doesn’t pay the bills.

Love doesn’t buy food or pay for shelter when Caleb spends the rent money on books and parchment in pursuit of his goals. It doesn’t buy wood for heat, or keep a roof over their head.

Love is love, the thing stories and great tales are built on, but what does that mean if you starve? What does that mean if you freeze?

And so Molly makes deal, goes to the underworld to work, to have a chance at survival. Molly learns that some deals aren’t worth it, some deals have grave consequences. Some deals can’t be undone. 

It isn’t a new story. 

Caleb realizes his mistake, curses himself thrice over. How many mistakes can he make? How many times can he fuck up this badly? He decides to go after his love, his Molly, to bring him back by any means necessary. He goes where most mortals wouldn’t dare, where he shouldn’t be _able_ to go, pleads with the powers in charge, pleads for _love_ , pleads for Molly in a way he’d never plead for himself. And miracle of miracles and gods’ blessings, it _works_.

But of course there’s a price; there’s never _not_ a price, not in stories like this.

They can leave, the both of them, but he must lead them out. He can’t look back, can’t doubt.

He must _believe_.

This isn’t a new story, but with a bit of luck perhaps this time they’ll write a different ending. A _better_ ending.

A happy ending.

He walks. It feels like forever, moving through the tunnels, dark as night, dark as pitch, dark as hell. The whole way he keeps his eyes focused forward, though his hands tremble, despite how his body shakes. He has to believe, has to trust that this will work, that Molly is following behind him as he walks.

He’d trusted once.

He’d believed wholeheartedly, and look where it’s gotten him. It led him astray, led him to the place where he was so driven to fix things that he’d put Molly in the position to end up here. And now he’s being asked to trust again,, to believe that this time it will be better, that _this_ time will have a different outcome, that love will prevail.

His steps echo off the stone walls around him, steady as a drum beat, and try as he might he can’t hear the steps of Molly behind him. He hears only himself, and it’s a battle to keep going, to keep the small guttering flame of hope alive and to not look back. It’s hard- _so_ hard- to keep going, to have faith. Faith that he’s not alone, that when he gets to the end, gets to the other side, that Molly will be with him as promised, that Molly will be _free_ ; that they can make the world as they wish it to be, in spite of how it is.

Faith that he hasn’t destroyed the best thing in his life, despite knowing that he ruins everything he touches.

As he walks, he trails his fingers along the wall to guide him and closes his eyes; he can’t look back if his eyes are closed. He imagines how Molly will look in the sun- his lavender skin brightened and warmed under the golden rays of light instead of being tinged sallow grey in the lanterns of the underworld. The sun will glint off the baubles in Molly’s horns, off his fangs, and his eyes will sparkle like rubies. His laugh will sound like wind chimes, light and joyous; he’ll make Molly a flower crown, decorate him in as much flash and color as he can scrounge together. Molly’s always been meant for color, to shine bright like stained glass, glowing with inner light.

The tunnels are near-endless as he walks, time slowing so that hours feel like days feel like years, even when he knows better. He hears Molly’s voice in his head, soft and warm, encouraging.

_‘Just a little further, love. You can do this. All you have to do is trust me. Just keep going, almost there...'_

He puts one foot in front of the other, focusing on Molly’s voice in his head instead of the yawning stillness that surrounds him as he moves.

Eventually the smallest touches of fresh air begin to caress his face and move his hair. He’s close; it won’t be long now until he’s at the cave entrance. He opens his eyes, taking care to keep his head facing forward, and there, just up ahead, is a circle of light. The breeze is stronger, carrying the scent of fresh soil and life, staggering in its intensity after the stale and stagnant air of the underground.

The urge to look back is stronger than ever. He hasn’t heard any sign of Molly since he turned to move toward the tunnel, hasn’t felt his presence, and while he trusts Molly, even with his life, he feels a slither of doubt worm in.

What if it wasn’t real? What if the god lied? What if he exits and turns to find nothing? Would he be able to find his way back once he was all the way out?

His thoughts are a whirl, the strength of them dizzying and almost enough to make him turn back, but at the last second he hesitates.

The moment is crystalline, pulled taut like a line of spider silk, like the world is holding its collective breath, and clear as day he hears Molly’s voice in his mind.

‘ _I’m right behind you, love._ **_Believe.'_**

Caleb steels himself, takes a breath that smells of flowers and light, and steps out of the cave into the sun.

He’s a few steps out before he comes to a stop, wanting to be sure he’s clear of the cave entrance. He doesn’t know what to do, whether it’s alright to turn around now and look, or if he has to wait. He’s _afraid_ to look, if he’s honest, afraid that after all of this, after everything, that he’ll turn and find nothing, that it was a trick, that Molly’s gone forever and he’ll never see him again, that his heart will break and-

“ _Mo chuisle._ ”

Caleb shudders; the quiet voice is coming from behind him, but it’s not in his head. There’s a gentle touch to his shoulder, and Caleb closes his eyes, hands coming up to his face as his breath hitches.

“Caleb, sweetheart-” There’s the sound of movement, and the touch on his shoulder travels as the person behind him comes around to the front, grass rustling as they go.  “-open your eyes, love, look at me.”

Caleb takes a wet, shuddering breath, and lowers his hands, daring to look up. Smiling back at him, tears shining in his eyes, is Molly. His smile is a bit wobbly, but it’s there. Caleb doesn’t know what to do, what to say. Molly’s _here_ , he made it, and Caleb’s afraid to touch him, afraid he’ll dissipate like mist. Stories like his don’t _end_ like this, this isn’t how it goes. He’d hoped, of course he had, but he realizes he didn’t have any expectation of actually _succeeding_.

“Caleb?”

He jumps; Molly is still there, starting to look worried and a little uncertain, and that cannot stand. Caleb’s self-imposed paralysis breaks and he lunges forward, startling a yelp out of Molly as he tackles him. Molly clearly isn’t expecting it and the two of them tumble to the ground as Caleb wraps his arms around Molly and pulls him close, burying his face in the crook of Molly’s neck. Molly’s dirty from his work underground, his skin gritty with dust; he’s still wearing the drab worker’s uniform that swamps his already slender frame, but he’s never looked more beautiful to Caleb. His arms tighten around Molly, and Molly’s come around to squeeze him back. For a few minutes that’s all there is; they hold each other close and just breathe. 

Molly’s tail eventually worms close and winds around Caleb’s leg, pulling him impossibly closer. Caleb doesn’t want to let go, doesn’t think he _can_ , not yet.

“I thought I had lost you, _schatz_ ,” he murmurs, mostly into Molly’s shoulder, but the gentle tightening of Molly’s arms around him let him know he’s been heard.

“No, love you could never.” Molly presses a kiss to Caleb’s hair. “I’m far too stubborn, you know that. I’d have found a way out if this hadn’t worked.”

For all Molly’s words are confident, his voice betrays him, just as quiet as Caleb’s and watery besides. Caleb pulls back, not letting go, but giving himself enough space to be able to see Molly’s face. The tears are still tracking down his cheeks even though he’s smiling, and he leans into it when Caleb lifts a hand to rest along Molly’s jaw, thumb lifting to brush some of the tears away.

“Thank you for coming for me, love.” Molly’s eyes close, more tears leaking out as he turns his face into Caleb’s palm, nuzzling before pressing his lips to skin.

Caleb huffs a laugh and leans forward, resting his forehead against Molly’s, reveling in the closeness, just being near to his love once more.

“ _Schatz_ , there is no world we could inhabit where I would not come for you.”

Molly just squeezes him tighter. Soon they’ll have to get up and find shelter, find food, but there will be time for that later. For now, Caleb is content to lay in the tall grass, soaking up the sun after the long span underground, and hold a miracle in his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Mo chuisle_ \- my pulse
> 
> I had [this video of "Wait for Me II"](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XhgJ5VUy8y8) playing on loop the whole time I was writing this chapter...


	6. Star Wars AU- sickfic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caleb has a lesson to get to, but Molly has a lesson of his own to impart.

From the moment Caleb wakes up he knows it’s going to be a bad day.

Ever since he left the Empire- _since he broke, since he was lost, since…-_ he’s had a turbulent relationship with the Force. He’s doing much better now, a lot more settled, but there are still days where his joints ache and burn, his muscles sore as if he’s taken a beating, and the inside of his skull feels tender, too small to hold all the buzzing noise of the minds around him.

He’s learned to live with it, push through and do what must be done. In all honesty it’s not too far from how things were back with the Sith, and he thinks. They may not have intended to, but they’ve prepared him for this, for being on the run, for being able to function even in the worst of states, and it’s helped keep him alive, even when he wasn’t consciously trying to do so.

Today it’s his muscles and joints. They _ache_ , and he takes a moment to curl into a ball under his blankets and wallow, letting himself fully feel it before taking a deep breath, and settling himself.

Or at least that’s what he attempts to do.

He goes to breathe and it catches in his throat, in his chest, and he ends up coughing, his throat burning with it. By the time he stops it takes him a moment to catch his breath, panting as he lays on the mattress. He doesn’t want to move, doesn’t want to get up, or see anyone, or have to deal with being a person, but they have a training scheduled today; he’s agreed to meet with Fjord and Molly, to work with them on focus and intent, and he knows they could both use the extra session. So he does what he does best- he does what he must.

He tosses the blankets off, ignoring the shiver of cold that goes through him, and forces himself up out of bed. It takes an effort not to curl back in on himself, but he allows himself a roughly knit sweater under his usual robes. It helps a little to combat the chill, and having even one more physical layer between himself and the world helps to calm his mind. Thankfully his mind is relatively quiet-or as quiet as it ever gets- and after combing his fingers through his hair he makes his way to the training ground.

He's slightly winded by the time he reaches it which is a little unusual, but it's also been awhile since he's had what he calls, in the privacy of his own mind, one of his ' _episodes_ '. If he thinks about it, he hasn't really had one since meeting the Mighty Nein, but he supposes the reprieve couldn't last forever. The Force is inevitable, omnipresent; it was only a matter of time before he felt its effects again.

Settling his face into an expression of pleasant neutrality, he crosses the packed dirt to reach where both Fjord and Molly are sitting, awaiting his arrival. Fjord is the first to notice him, quickly followed by Molly, and Caleb can't help but notice the pleased flick Molly's tail gives. They've been waiting, and he can only assume they're glad to finally get started. 

"Good morning."

Fjord and Molly share a look as they stand.

"You doin' alright, Caleb?" Fjord asks. "You sound a little-"

"-rough." Molly finishes, a small wrinkle of concern appearing between his eyebrows.

Caleb forces a smile that he hopes looks more genuine than it feels. “I am fine, just wasn’t quite ready to get out of bed this morning. Are we ready to begin?”

The other two glance at each other again, and Fjord shrugs. “Sure.”

It’s a good thing he’s had the basics drilled so far into his brain he doesn’t think they’ll ever get out, because as Caleb talks through the beginnings of the meditation he can already feel his mind trying to wander. It’s difficult to focus, but he muddles through, giving them the bare-bones instructions before setting a mental timer on how long to wait before the next part.

He doesn’t realize he’s started to fall asleep until there’s a light touch to his shoulder and he startles badly. He sucks in a breath in surprise and it sets off another coughing fit, leaving him on his hands and knees on the hard-packed dirt. He’s vaguely aware of voices, but he’s uncertain whether he’s actually hearing them out loud or if he’s picking up thoughts from whoever’s nearby. There’s a hand on his back rubbing in soothing circles, but he’s having trouble sorting out who it is.

He finally stops coughing, able to pull in a full breath, though he’s feeling a bit shaky still. The chill he’d kept away with the addition of the sweater feels as if it’s returned tenfold, and he shivers as he pushes himself up to his knees. Everything hurts, and he feels as if Fjord and Molly must surely be able to hear his joints creak as he moves, but he’s worked through worse.

The hand on his back stills as he gets upright. “Are you okay?”

Ah, Molly, then.

“ _Ja_ , I’m good. Sorry, we can get back to it, now.”

Molly moves around in front of Caleb, and even as muddle-headed as he feels, Molly’s incredulous expression is obvious.

“Oh, I don’t think we can.”

“But there is no reason to stop, you are both here for the lesson, I am perfectly capable of-”

“You realize Fjord isn’t here anymore?”

Caleb blinks, looks around, and finds Molly is correct; Fjord isn’t in sight, and he has no idea when he left. Molly takes him by the arm, tugging him along, and it doesn’t occur to Caleb to resist until they’re already most of the way towards the observation benches over to the side of the pitch.

“Why don’t you have a seat here, dear.”

Molly positions him so the backs of his knees are at the bench, and Caleb doesn’t have it in him right now to fight. He sinks down onto the bench with a barely-restrained sigh of relief, but it doesn’t stop the worry from curling in his belly. He needs to do the lesson, it’s what they asked for, it’s his purpose. If he doesn’t do what they want, if he doesn’t serve his purpose, what good is he?

“Mollymauk, this is unnecessary. I can still run you through your lessons.”

Sitting next to him, Molly takes him by surprise by placing the back of his hand against Caleb’s cheek and hissing quietly.

“Maybe you can, but you don’t _have_ to. Why didn’t you say you were ill? We could have rescheduled.”

“I am not-” He cuts off at the deeply unimpressed look Molly shoots him. “I am perhaps not well as I could be, but I have worked through worse. There is no reason to cancel a needed training session.”

“None of our training is so important as to disregard your well-being, you know that, right?” Molly ducks his head to be able to meet Caleb’s eyes, and he must see something he doesn’t like, because he presses. “ _Right_?”

And Caleb doesn’t know what to say. Back with the Empire, back with the Sith, you served your purpose, or you were tossed aside. He’d done it more than once himself, using people and then when their usefulness was through, leaving whatever was left of them behind. He’s not good for much, and he knows it, but this is a thing he can do; he can help these people, help them understand their abilities and learn to use them in a way that won’t end up with them dead or worse. He can _do_ this, and he doesn’t understand why Molly isn’t letting him.

“But you all need to learn,” he says quietly. “It’s important that you learn focus and control, and I am the only one available to teach you.”

“I understand that, love.” Molly’s voice has softened to match his, and he’s taken one of Caleb’s hands in his own, thumb moving in gentle sweeps over the back of Caleb’s knuckles. It’s very distracting. “But please understand that we don’t want you to hurt yourself in the process. You’re sick. You need to rest and recuperate. Fjord’s gone to fetch Jester to look you over.”

“It’s-” Caleb pauses, takes stock. He’d thought this was a Force flare, which would have been an issue to explain since none of the rest of them know he’s Sensitive. The more he thinks about it- the chills, the full-body aches, the coughing- the more he realizes that the Force may not be to blame at all. “Oh.”

Molly smiles, a small gentle thing. “There you are. I knew you’d get there. You’re running a fever even _I_ can feel on you. We’ll have Jester look you over, and then we’ll get you back into bed for some rest. You don’t have to worry about it. We’ll help take care of you until you’re better, and then we’ll worry about training.”

“But why?” It’s a testament to how he’s feeling because in any other circumstance Caleb would never have let himself ask that, and if he had, he  _certainly_ wouldn’t have done so in a voice that sounded so small.

Molly’s smile goes impossibly softer, and a little sad. “Because we care about you, Caleb. We’re your friends. And friends look after each other, even when they’re being stubborn.” He leans in, bumping his shoulder gently against Caleb’s. “Maybe especially when they’re being stubborn.”

For the second time in as many minutes, Caleb is at a loss as to what to say. He understands what friendship is, he knows he must have had friends once upon a time, back before he was selected for training by the Empire, before he was pulled from the ranks to join the Sith. Even with his memory, the recollections of those long-lost friends are hazy, difficult to recall and hold in his mind.

But-

-he can remember smiles, laughter, conversations well after he should have been sleeping, and a jumble of memories that coalesce into a sense of warmth and joy than actual explicit memories.

He compares that to what he has with these people, the people he learns more about every day, and realizes that even if it wasn’t intentional, they are becoming his friends, if they aren’t already. Somehow it’s eluded him until now, but that definitely seems to be what’s happened. There’s the gentle sweep of Molly’s thumb over his hand again, and surely it must be the fever making him feel so warm inside.

“Thank you.” he murmurs, giving up any pretense of argument with Molly. He’s too tired, too sore and sick to bother.

“You’re quite welcome,” Molly says back, putting an arm over Caleb’s shoulders and pulling him close. Caleb ends up with his head resting on Molly’s shoulder, the lavender skin feeling slightly cool under his cheek where it rests just under the edge of Molly’s cut-off sleeve. “Why don’t you rest until they get here. I’ve got you.”

There’s the press of something to his hair, but his thoughts are already sliding away into restless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> greatly encouraged by the wondrous [QueenWithABeeThrone](http://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenWithABeeThrone/pseuds/QueenWithABeeThrone).


	7. Phoenix!Caleb AU, Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ikithon is dead, and Caleb is free.
> 
> Now what?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This picks up directly after where chapter 1 left off

Ikithon’s dead, Caleb is finally free, and Molly’s lightheaded from the rush of relief as they flee the second-floor study and make their way down the grand staircase at the end of the hall. He’s so focused on making for the side door he’s been using that he doesn’t realize at first that Caleb isn’t with him. He notices a bare second before he sees the edge of Caleb’s robes turn a nearby corner and he curses under his breath, abruptly changing direction to follow.

“ _Caleb_ -” Molly hisses, trying to figure out where the man has gone. He’s mostly sure they’re alone in the house, but he’s not certain, and he doesn’t want to risk raising his voice. He moves forward and finds drapery moving in a light breeze from an open doorway. Approaching cautiously he finds an exit to an inner courtyard. He’s seen it before on previous visits, when he was casing the house so he knew it as well as the back of his own hand, and it doesn’t look much different now. The greenery is exquisite, with carefully curated pathways throughout, and in the center, a pair of statues; it’s here that he finds Caleb, hands loose at his sides, but a look of despair on his face. Molly can’t help but think it’s an odd reaction to have to statuary, however unusual they look.

The statues are of a man and woman, both wearing clothes more suited to country living, clothing he’d have expected from ordinary peasant folk on the edges of the Empire than what you might see gracing the fancy garden of an Archmage. Their expressions are unusual for garden statues, as are the poses they hold, but then Ikithon was an unusual man, and Molly supposes one can’t argue with taste. The figures look as if they were in the middle of something- the woman’s face caught in the middle of a shout, one of her hands raised and outstretched, the other clenched in a fist at her side. A few of the fingers from the outstretched hand appear to have been broken off, though the rest of her looks intact. The male figure looks enraged, brows pulled down and mouth also open as if frozen in the midst of a roar of anger; one of his arms is completely missing, broken off at the shoulder, while the other is partially raised at his side, fingers curled as if may have once held something, though it’s empty now.

Molly comes up beside Caleb, trying to make enough noise as not to startle him before putting a careful hand on Caleb’s shoulder.

“Caleb, are you alright? I thought we were leaving.”

“Did you know-” Caleb’s voice cracks, and he clears his throat, taking a shaking breath before he continues. “Did you know you cannot kill a phoenix outright?”

Molly’d had an inkling about Caleb’s nature, but he hadn’t been sure. Knowing now he was right seems of little consequence considering the dread starting to pool in his gut as he looks over the statues again.

“I may have heard as much, yes.”

Caleb’s eyes don’t leave the statues as he talks, though he does reach a hand out, fingertips barely grazing the outstretched arm of the woman’s statue.“When Ikithon first took me, I was young, still a fledgling, really. As you might imagine, my parents were not happy with his attempt to kidnap me. Ikithon, however, was prepared.”

Molly is starting to get an idea of where this is going, and the dread in his stomach grows, weighing like a ball of lead in his gut.

“While he distracted them by grabbing me, his henchmen were casting...something. They both turned to stone as I watched. As I said, I was young, still, had barely begun manifesting my abilities. I was hardly a match for an experienced Archmage and his trained helpers. Ikithon had his men load my parents into a cart, and what choice did I have? I went with him.”

Molly looks at the statues again, horror dawning as he realizes that these are _not_ in fact statues- they’re Caleb’s parents, turned to stone. He looks them over with new eyes, taking in every injury- the missing fingers, the missing arm, small chips and scratches, and wishes for just a moment that Ikithon was alive, if only so he could kill him again.

“He would bring me down here.” Caleb’s voice is a whisper, and Molly isn’t sure he’s blinking at all, his eyes wide and staring, though Molly doesn’t know what Caleb’s seeing. “When I...well, you know how teenagers are, Mollymauk, _ja_? They are rebellious, they talk back, they act out. No less for one being held against his will by a man who stole him from his home and attacked his parents. And so when other enticements, other punishments failed, he began to bring me here. To remind me what I had to lose should I continue to disobey.”

“ _Gods_ , Caleb, I-” Molly has no idea what to say, where even to begin. He’s heard of spells like this, that turn flesh to stone, leave living beings frozen, trapped. He knows what happens if they’re damaged before they’re turned back. A quick glance around shows no sign of the missing pieces, no indication Ikithon kept them, and oh, that’s so much _worse_.

"Now that he is gone, I do not know what will happen, to his estate, to his belongings, to his home. I cannot imagine anyone else would want to keep-” Caleb gestures at his parents, then brings his hand to his face, and it’s only because of a slight hitch of Caleb’s shoulders that Molly realizes he’s crying. Molly feels helpless, unsure how to help, how to comfort Caleb. For all he’d made it his mission to get Caleb out, he barely knows the man, and doesn’t know what might be welcome.

A few moments go by, and Caleb collects himself before reaching out again, this time with both hands, resting them lightly, one on each statue.

“Thank you for giving me time, Mollymauk. I’m glad I got to say goodbye, even if they cannot hear me.”

That shocks Molly out of the swirl of thoughts he’s been in the last few minutes.

“Goodbye?”  
  
Caleb turns his head, looking at Molly over his shoulder. His eyes are red, the blazing blue of his irises standing out even more against the glint of silvery tears that track down his face. “ _Ja_ , Mollymauk, goodbye. I cannot change them back, I cannot exactly carry them with me in my pocket, and it is unreasonable to think they will remain here once it is discovered Ikithon is gone. They will likely be ground to dust and used to mix for paving stones. Or bought by some collector. In any case, I think it best I say my goodbyes now, don’t you think?”

In the end, it’s the matter-of-factness with which Caleb speaks, as if it’s a foregone conclusion that despite how much he’s already lost in his life, that of _course_ he'll have to lose his parents too, for good this time.

Well.

There’s very little that inclines Molly to action more than supposedly foregone conclusions. Some of the greatest joy in his life comes from throwing similar conclusions out on their ears.

“You know what, I don’t think so, Caleb.”

Molly grins at the expression of shock that flits across Caleb’s face, then grabs his hand, tugging him gently away. “Not to make light of your pain, my dear, but I don’t believe it’s time for it just yet. I have within my employ a few ladies of exemplary strength, and well, I’m already stealing a phoenix today. What’s a couple of petrified parents?”

Caleb follows, unresisting, his mouth still open in surprise. “But...Mollymauk, how-”

“Never you mind. Leave it to me. First things first, we should get you out of here and back to my place for the time being. It’s as hidden as I think we could reasonably expect, and that way you’ll be safe while we come back for your parents.”

They move out of the courtyard, Caleb throwing a last glance over his shoulder toward the garden, but Molly keeps him moving forward. He easily understands Caleb’s disbelief; if he didn’t know himself as well as he does, he wouldn’t believe his claims either. It’s only a few moments before they’re at the side door, and again, Caleb hesitates, causing Molly to stop as well.

“What is it dear, what’s the matter?”

Caleb looks down at himself then up at Molly. “I think it would be best if I did not go out onto the streets looking as I do, _ja_?”

It’s Molly’s turn to be surprised. “You can change how you look?”

A small smile tugs up the corners of Caleb’s lips, and of all things, he _winks_ at Molly. Caleb then closes his eyes, and for a moment, all he does it breathe. He takes a final deep breath, and for lack of a better term, he _dims_ as he breathes out, the flame of his hair sputtering out until reddish-orange hair remains in its place, bright, beautiful, but normal-looking. The golden sheen Molly’s grown accustomed to seeing on Caleb’s skin dulls and disappears, leaving the surface matte and almost a sickly pale by comparison. Molly glances down and the rosy talons on Caleb’s toes have shrunk back, leaving human feet behind, the golden scales gone smooth to regular skin. When Molly brings his gaze back to Caleb’s face it’s to find Caleb watching him. The eyes that had blazed like sapphires are still a brilliant blue, though they no longer burn.

All in all, Caleb is still stunning, but he no longer looks otherworldly, will no longer cause whispers and stares on the streets as they pass.

Molly coughs. “Well. I suppose that’ll do, won’t it? But...hm.” He reaches into one of his many pockets and pulls out a scarf. It’s of a dark material, and will help to hide Caleb’s hair for the time being as well as help keep him warm in the chill outside. Molly settles it over Caleb’s head, loops it lightly around his neck before stepping back to give Caleb a once-over.

“This should be enough to get you to my place without too much of a fuss. Just try to keep your head down, don’t look at anyone, and only talk to someone if you absolutely must.” Molly glances down again and frowns. “I apologize for lack of footwear, that somehow escaped me, but there hasn’t been much snow, and we’ll do our best to warm you right up again once we get there. Do you think you can make it, or should we try to find something for you before we go?”

Caleb’s expression hardens. “I don't wish to spend one more minute in this house I do not have to. I will survive, just...please, I would like to go.”

Molly can’t blame him for that; he nods, taking Caleb’s hand again as they step outside into the night air.

A few feet outside Molly hears a quiet, punched-out noise from Caleb. When he turns to look it’s to find Caleb’s eyes wide and glinting in the low light; Molly catches his eye, brows raised in question, but Caleb just shakes his head, determined, and urges Molly onward.

They’ve been traveling around ten minutes by Molly’s count when Caleb stumbles. It’s a small thing, Caleb murmuring a quiet apology, but when Molly catches his arm to steady him it’s to feel Caleb trembling under his hand. Taking a closer look, Molly can see Caleb’s jaw clenched tight, his skin even paler than before, and _shit_ , this isn’t good.

Molly steers Caleb into a side alley, leaning him up against a wall, and Caleb shudders as his back hits the cold stone.

“Caleb, are you alright?”

Caleb struggles a moment before he shakes his head, arms coming up to hug himself. “ _N-nein_ , I- I had forgotten how cold it g-gets. We, I- cold is- is w-worse. For us.”

Molly curses under his breath, damning himself thrice over for letting Caleb convince him to just leave instead of finding him something to wear. Molly removes his own scarf, then reaches out to start unwinding the scarf he’d put on Caleb only a scant few minutes before.

“This is what we’re going to do. We’re going to use these to wrap your feet for now, which should help a little. I’m going to give you my coat-”

Caleb makes a sound of protest, but Molly immediately cuts him off, his voice firm.

“You don’t get to argue about that. You’re turning blue, and as fetching as it is on you, that is not a color you should be. I’m much better prepared to deal with the cold than you are right now. So no arguments, do you hear me?”

Caleb nearly _does_ argue, but at a stern look from Molly closes his eyes and nods. Molly makes quick work of using the scarves to wrap Caleb’s feet, wincing to himself at how cold they feel in his hands. Once that’s done, he stands and shrugs his coat off, pulling Caleb forward so he can get it onto him. Molly’s never considered himself especially brawny, but Caleb almost swims in the garment, for all that they’re of a similar height to each other. The moment Molly gets it settled onto Caleb’s shoulders, Caleb lets out a quiet sigh, his shoulders dropping as he sinks into the warmth of it. It’s the work of a few moments to get it buttoned up, and then they’re on their way again, dipping in and out of alleys and side streets. As much as Molly wishes they could just go straight back to the hideout, he doesn’t dare, knows how important it is to backtrack a few times, take the wrong way a few minutes in one direction before looping back. As much as Caleb’s well-being weighs on him, his family is there, and he would sooner cut off a limb than knowingly endanger them.

By the time they finally make it to the door, Caleb is clearly struggling, and Molly is worried. The last stretch of travel was slowed further by Caleb’s increasingly clumsy movements, stumbling and uncoordinated, and Molly is beginning to fear Caleb’s worse off than he thought.

He knocks carefully at the door, using the specific combination of sounds Nott had made him learn earlier in the evening. There’s the span of a few seconds where nothing happens, then a squeaky voice calls from behind the door.

“Who is it?”

“You know very well who it is, you little beastie. Let me in.”

“How do I know it’s you?”

“Who the fuck else did you make memorize your damn knocks? If this man dies of hypothermia, Nott, I will blame you solidly for it.”

There’s another pause, then the sound of half a dozen locks unlatching before the door swings open. On the other side is Nott, her crossbow already nocked and raised, aimed at his face. They stare at each other a moment, Caleb growing heavier against his side before she lowers the weapon, setting it aside to reach out.

“Here, let me help you.”

They get Caleb fully into small entryway, the door shut behind them and locked up tight, then Nott is yelling for Yasha. Molly would be concerned at the noise, but he’s more concerned at how it doesn’t seem to phase Caleb at all. The man’s eyes are hooded, and to Molly’s intense dismay, the shivers he’d been feeling from Caleb earlier seem to have stopped.

“We have to get him warm, Nott, _please_.”

She mutters under her breath at him, but he knows she doesn’t mean anything by it. They have Caleb almost to the end of the hall before a large looming shape appears in front of them, and Molly smiles, relieved.

“Yasha, thank goodness, a person of reason and means. Put him in my bed for now, we need to start warming him up. Nott, can you please get Jester or Caduceus? Maybe both, if they’re available.”

Nott dashes off, and Yasha leans in, getting a good grip before taking Caleb up in her arms and starting for Molly’s room. Molly follows along behind her, mind already racing, wondering if he has enough blankets in his room or if he’ll need to steal more from the others.

They reach the door and he slides around Yasha’s side to open it, moving to his bed to yank the blankets aside before she can set Caleb down. Once she does, Molly starts in on unwrapping Caleb’s feet; the scarves are soaked through and dirty with the slush and muck from the street, and he calls himself every name in the book as he finds blue-tinged skin beneath.

“Fuck, Yasha, can you-” He turns only to find her already at the fireplace, getting the logs within blazing again. “Thanks, I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

She grunts in response, and he turns his attention back to Caleb. He’s shivering again, which is great, but he’s still too cold. Molly unbuttons the coat and sits him up to wrestle it off of him before laying Caleb back down and sliding into the bed next to him, tugging the pile of blankets and quilts up and over them both. Caleb makes a confused noise as Molly gets his arms around him and pulls him near, squirming in his grasp, but Molly hushes him.

“Yes, I know, this is terribly awkward and forward, but you’re freezing, and body heat is the best way to warm you back up again. I’ll apologize properly later, but in the meantime, you’re getting cuddled.”

Molly finds one of Caleb’s legs with his tail and winds it around his calf, squeezing gently, and Caleb seems to calm with the pressure. The peace is broken a few minutes later when the door flies open and the barely-contained chaos that’s Jester Lavorre flies through into the room.

“Molly, you’re back! I heard you need my very special help!”

Molly huffs a quiet laugh and nods, pulling Caleb closer as the other man stirs at the noise. “Yes, dear. This poor thing hasn’t fared well in the weather, and I was wondering if you could take a look? Make sure the only bits of him that’re blue are his lovely eyes?”

“Pfft,” Jester says, rolling her sleeves up. “Of _course_ I can do that. I am a cleric after all.”

Jester pulls the blankets down, and carefully places her hands on Caleb’s feet, her magic a sparkling green that erases the pale blue tone from Caleb’s skin. She moves on to Caleb’s hands next, cupping them in her own and blowing a warm breath laced with magic over them, bringing them back to a healthy shade of pink as Molly watches.

Molly sighs in relief, pulling Caleb close again as Jester tugs the blankets back up to cover them both, making sure they’re snug and warm.

“I’ll talk to Caduceus and have him bring some tea, that will help, too. He should be fine, though, Molly; just keep him warm.” She gazed down at him with mock seriousness, a grin threatening to break through her expression. “As your cleric, I recommend _lots_ of snuggling. It’s _very_ beneficial, you know.”

Molly snorts. “I bow to your expertise, my dear.” He pauses, considering, then looks up with a smile. “Jester, I was wondering if you and Yasha might be up to running a bit of mischief for me...”

 

 

 

A few hours later and Caleb has warmed up considerably. He's quietly dozing, cuddled up against Molly’s side; Molly has his tail wrapped around Caleb’s ankle, and it’s comforting to feel the warmth returning when he remembers how cold Caleb was when they arrived. Molly tries not to think about how nice this is, how good it feels to have Caleb’s warm weight pressed against him. It’s inappropriate is what it is; he rescued Caleb from captivity, is giving him safe harbor, is responsible for his well-being. It doesn’t matter now nice this is, it can’t go further. Not that there’s anything _to_ go further. This isn’t by choice. This snuggling is purely therapeutic and mandated by a cleric.

That’s his story and he’s sticking to it.

The quiet is interrupted by sudden loud voices out in the hallway, and the sounds of heavy things being moved or dragged before there’s a perfunctory knock on his door.

“Molly?”

“Come in, Yash.”

The door opens to reveal Yasha, though he catches a flick of blue down near her feet that tells him Jester is just out of sight.

“We got them. Where do you want them?”

“I think there should be room in here, if you don’t mind?”

Yasha nods, turns to murmur something to Jester before grabbing something just outside the doorframe and pulling it carefully in.

The something turns out to be Caleb’s mother, and it’s just as eerie now as it was in the courtyard to see her, especially knowing it’s a real person, and not just a statue. A moment later Jester comes in, carefully carrying Caleb’s father, and Molly doesn’t honestly know how Jester is so strong, but he’s never been more thankful.

“Any trouble?”

“No,” Yasha says, getting Caleb’s mother situated off to one side. “We didn’t see anyone, and they were right where you said. We got in, got out, came back.”

Molly sighs in relief. “Excellent.”

“Mollymauk?”

There’s movement against his side, and when Molly looks down it’s to see a sleepy, fluffy-haired Caleb looking up at him, eyes blinking owlishly. He feels his heart give a flutter, and stuffs it firmly down. This is neither the time nor the place.

“What is happening?”

“Well,” Molly says. “I did mention something about stealing a pair of petrified parents. I couldn’t very well go back on my word, now could I?”

It takes a second for the words to process, and then Caleb’s eyes widen and he’s scrambling to sit up.

“I- _Molly_ , I cannot... _how_?”

Molly laughs, though not unkindly, at the expression on Caleb’s face. “I did tell you I had two ladies of exemplary strength in my employ. I sent them to the estate while I was here with you. They were able to get in and retrieve your parents safely, and now they’re here, where they’ll stay while we try to figure out a solution to turning them back.”

Caleb looks like he’s about to cry; his mouth opens and closes a few times, but he finally manages a heart-felt, “ _Thank you_.” Molly squirms and clears his throat at the look Caleb is giving him, turning to Yasha and Jester for help. Yasha’s expression is about as neutral as it always is, but Jester’s is one of only barely-suppressed glee.

“So!” Jester says, bouncing up on her toes. “Molly said these are your parents?”

Caleb pulls his attention from Molly to look over at Jester. “I- _ja_ , they are.”

“Are they like, _cursed_ or something?”

Caleb still looks a combination of stunned and confused, but Molly knows that’s normal for most people when they first meet Jester. “I suppose they are, technically, yes.”

“Oh!” Jester perks up. “Maybe this will help, I read it in a book once!” And without further ado, Jester turns and plants a kiss on the lips of Caleb’s father.

There’s stunned silence in the room, and when nothing happens Jester pouts, her shoulders and tail drooping. “Nuts. I was really hoping that’d work.”

“Please,” Caleb asks, sounding slightly strained. “Please do not kiss my cursed parents.”

There’s a brief pause, and Molly almost swallows his tongue trying not to laugh as Yasha turns her head and presses a brief kiss to the cheek of Caleb’s mother.

“Did I _not just say_ -”

“Well, you know,” Yasha says sheepishly, face pinking in an uncharacteristic blush. “I had to make sure, didn’t I?”

The look on Caleb’s face is so adorably befuddled that Molly loses the battle and starts laughing, unable to help himself. Caleb’s expression changes to one of mild consternation, and that only fuels Molly’s hilarity until he’s collapsed back against the pillows on his bed. Caleb is still looking at him as if he’s lost his mind, but Molly can’t bring himself to care. A lot has happened today- he nearly died, was healed, stole a phoenix, gained a friend, and helped give hope where there was none.

With Caleb safe and warm next to him, he’s going to go ahead and call the day a win.


	8. Modern Fluff AU Part II- Wedding Boogaloo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly can’t stop smiling.
> 
> He knows he must look an absolute fool, besotted and sappy, glowing like a light bulb, but he can’t help himself. Every time he thinks he’s getting used to the idea, he glances over to see Caleb walking alongside him, and it hits him all over again.
> 
> They’re _engaged_. 
> 
> They’re going to get _married_.
> 
> Warm joy fills Molly’s chest, and it’s all he can do to contain himself to just a grin; he wants to laugh, to sing, to tell every person they pass on the street what’s happened. As it is, he can’t quite control the movements of his tail, swaying in pleased curlicues behind him, even encased in its cold-weather sleeve. Anyone who’s familiar with tail language is going to know he’s delighted, but that’s alright. He’ll tell anyone and everyone who even remotely looks in his direction how happy he is. He thought he was happy before, being with Caleb, but it’s nothing compared to how right this feels, like he’ll float right off the snow-covered ground if Caleb lets go of his hand.

Molly can’t stop smiling.

He knows he must look an absolute fool, besotted and sappy, glowing like a light bulb, but he can’t help himself. Every time he thinks he’s getting used to the idea, he glances over to see Caleb walking alongside him, and it hits him all over again.

They’re _engaged_. 

They’re going to get _married_.

Warm joy fills Molly’s chest, and it’s all he can do to contain himself to _just_ a grin; he wants to laugh, to sing, to tell every person they pass on the street what’s happened. As it is, he can’t quite control the movements of his tail, swaying in pleased curlicues behind him, even encased in its cold-weather sleeve. Anyone who’s familiar with tail language is going to know he’s delighted, but that’s alright. He’ll tell anyone and everyone who even remotely looks in his direction how happy he is. He thought he was happy before, being with Caleb, but it’s nothing compared to how _right_ this feels, like he’ll float right off the snow-covered ground if Caleb lets go of his hand.

Caleb shows no sign of doing any such thing, but just in case, Molly tightens his grip on Caleb’s mittened fingers. The smile Caleb turns on him is warm, and Molly doesn’t think he’ll ever tire of seeing Caleb look at him like that, like he’s somehow hung the sun in the sky. He doesn’t know what he’s possibly done to deserve it, but he’s not going to complain. Not when it gets him Caleb at his side, looking soft and sweet in the bright winter sunlight. They’d stayed in bed far later than most people would consider proper, but getting engaged isn’t something that happens every day, and Molly refuses to feel bad about it. Caleb’s wearing the knit hat and scarf Molly’d given him for New Dawn, made of soft wool in a shade of blue just slightly darker than his eyes, and Molly’s heart squeezes at how beautiful he is. He looks like something out of a fairy tale painting, and Molly almost walks into a lamp post, unable to take his eyes off him.

Off his _fiance_.

The knowledge hits him again, happiness breaking over him like a wave, and a small squeak of joy makes it past his lips. Caleb glances over again, eyebrow raised.

“Everything alright, _schatz_?”

Grinning, Molly tugs Caleb close and presses a quick kiss to his stubbled cheek. "Perfect, darling, literally never better."

The look Caleb turns on him is so full of fondness, Molly can't help but lean in to kiss him again, but this time far more thoroughly. He takes pride in the dazed expression Caleb wears after.

They continue on, making for their favorite coffee shop, hands still clasped and swinging between them. It snowed the night before, still sparkling here and there on the buildings and parked cars they pass. It's beautiful, and Molly can't tell if it's because it actually is, or because he just thinks everything is beautiful right now; he finds he doesn't really care.

They step through the door into the Invulnerable Vagrant, the scent of coffee and cinnamon from the rolls in the bakery case near overwhelming. There’s soft music playing- acoustic guitar, calming and easily subsumed to the background- the quiet murmur of voices from the other patrons. Caleb reaches up to pluck his hat from his head, and Molly stifles a laugh at the state of his hair.

“Oh, darling, here, let me just-” He reaches up, running his claws carefully through Caleb’s hair, settling it back into place. Caleb smiles up at him from under his hair when Molly finishes, catching one of Molly’s hands in his and pressing his lips to Molly’s knuckles.

“Thank you, _schatz_.”

Heading further in, Caleb finishes unwrapping his scarf and hands it and his hat to Molly before heading up to the counter. Molly finds a table, tucked away in one of the corners of the room; the snowy weather has kept all but the most stalwart of customers away, making it easy to find a cozy nook to settle in. He sets Caleb’s things down on the table before tackling his tail sleeve, unbuttoning the small cap that covers the spaded tip before sliding the rest of the sleeve off. His tail give a gentle swish, enjoying the warm air as he removes his coat, hanging it on the back of the chair. He settles in and props his chin on his hands, watching as Caleb interacts with whichever of the Pumats is tending the counter today.

He’s so caught up in watching Caleb that he almost misses the subtle buzz of his phone on the table next to him. He tears his eyes away as Caleb moves to wait for their order, and glances down only to smile as he sees Jester’s name pop up in his notifications. Picking up the phone, he swipes it open to find an enthusiastic number of texts from her, culminating in the most absurd snowman he’s ever seen; it looks as if she’s not only decorated it with the normal assortment of sticks for arms, bits of coal for eyes and a carrot nose, but there are splashes of color one doesn’t normally associate with snowmen.

[ _purplepeacock_ ]: _Jester, dear, what on earth did you do to that poor snowman?_

_[BlueberryChaos_ ]: _did you know if you put food coloring and water into a spray bottle, you can color snow?? :D_

Molly snorts into his hand, and responds.

[ _purplepeacock_ ]: _how many snowmen in Zadash are colored like that now?_

[ _BlueberryChaos_ ] _: :D :D :D_

There’s a gentle bump against Molly’s shoulder and when he looks up Caleb is there, smiling down at him and offering a mug topped with a precarious mountain of whipped cream and caramel drizzle. Molly sets his phone down and makes grabby hands at the mug until Caleb hands it over with a quiet laugh.

“Anything interesting, _schatz_?”

Molly’s already licking at the whipped cream that’s threatening to fall over the side of the mug, and he takes a moment to lick his lips before answering, enjoying the way Caleb’s eyes slide to follow the action.

“Jester is apparently wreaking havoc on the snowman population of Zadash.”

“Ah.” Caleb settles into his chair with his own mug of far-less-interesting coffee, and leans in to inhale the steam. His eyelashes are a dark smudge against his cheeks as his eyes shut in appreciation, and Molly can’t help but be enraptured by the look of him, the light flush of warmth against his winter-pale skin, the glint of the overhead lights on Caleb’s hair. Fondness burbles up through Molly’s chest, and he reaches out towards Caleb, resting his fingers lightly against one of Caleb’s hands, rubbing a thumb over the rough skin of Caleb’s knuckles. Molly watches his darker skin contrast with Caleb’s, imagines a ring on Caleb’s finger, and finds he’s suddenly on the verge of tears. They’re not sad tears, not even remotely, but the emotions the thought of a ring- _his_ ring- on Caleb’s finger conjures within him is too much to contain, and seeks an outlet.

“Molly?” Caleb asks quietly, noticing the sudden shift in mood. “Are you alright? You look-”

“Can we get married today, do you think?”

Caleb’s eyes go slightly wide. “Wh- today? Why today?” At the first glimpse of disappointment in Molly’s expression Caleb’s eyes go even wider. “N-not that there’s anything wrong with it! I am just...curious, I guess, at the rush? I would have thought you’d want-” Caleb gestures vaguely with the hand Molly isn’t holding. “Something big, and fancy, pretty clothes. Which I am alright with.” Molly raises an eyebrow at him, and Caleb laughs. “Well, perhaps that’s a bit of a stretch, but I know you, Mollymauk. I know who you are, and I _love_ who you are, and I would not change you for the world. If that is the sort of wedding you want, that is the sort of wedding I’d want you to have. And while that sort of thing is not my general preference, you _are_ , so I would be willing to endure it, for you.”

Molly pulls Caleb’s hand to his lips, presses them against Caleb’s knuckles a moment before pulling them away to speak. “Darling, a wedding isn’t something you’re supposed to _endure_.” He smiles at Caleb, and gives his hand a squeeze. “I won’t say I don’t care about that, because we both know it isn’t quite true, but-” He glances down again at their hands, where their fingers intertwine. “Now that you’ve put marriage on the table, it feels-” Molly pauses, searching for the right words, and Caleb waits patiently while he does, giving Molly’s hand a squeeze back. “It feels a bit unbearable to wait," Molly says on a laugh. “It wasn’t something I was expecting, or thinking of doing immediately, but now that you’ve said it, I’m finding there’s not much I want more right now than to be married to you. And if it turns out we can’t do it today, that’s fine- I’ll still want to marry you tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after.” He turns a smile on Caleb, and he can’t imagine how soppy it must look, utterly smitten and ridiculously besotted, but he just _does not care_. “But, well...I’d really like it if we could get married today. If that’s alright with you.”

The look Caleb gives him is contemplative, but it doesn’t worry Molly. He’s seen that look before on Caleb’s face- soft, considering, thoughtful- and it’s one Molly almost exclusively sees turned toward himself. Caleb’s eyes go distant a moment, then refocus.

“I think it is only just about one o’clock, _ja_? The town hall should still be open, I think. Hours yet to get a marriage license, get some witnesses together, perhaps find a bouquet of flowers, if you’re so inclined-”

“You really mean it?” His own voice has gone a bit breathy in excitement. “We can- we can really do it today?”

The smile on Caleb’s face is growing, not quite beaming, too contained for that, but on Caleb it’s practically a grin. “I think we should be able to, _ja_. If, of course, you are still interested in having me.”

Face breaking into a grin, Molly drops Caleb’s hand to reach for his face, drawing him close into another kiss. “Of _course_ I’m still interested in having you, ridiculous man.”

They’re getting married.

They’re getting married _today_.

Gods almighty.

“Alright then.” Molly grabs his drink and downs half of it in a go, needing the sugary fortification. “Here we go, then.” Molly grabs his phone and hits a speed dial number, holding it to his ear with one hand while reaching out to take Caleb’s hand in his again with the other.

It rings a couple of times before there’s a soft click.

“Hello, Molly!” Jester’s cheerful voice carries easily over the phone, her breath a bit fast. “How are you?”

“I’m perfect, darling, how are you? Or should I ask how the snowmen of Zadash are faring?”

There’s a snort of laughter from the other end of the line, and Molly could swear he hears Jester grinning.

“They are perfectly fine, thank you for asking, as am I.”

“Lovely, lovely. I had a question for you, Jester.”

“Yeeeeeeees?”

“I was wondering if you could be convinced to set aside your very important snowman business today to help with something.”

“I _suppose_ I could, Molly, but only if it’s for something _very_ important. What do you need help with? Is it my cleric skills? You know I am a _very_ good cleric, but if it’s something serious, you should probably see a doctor-”

“No, no, nothing so serious.” Molly looks over at Caleb, and they smile at each other. “I was wondering how quickly you might be able to help organize a wedding.”

There’s the barest pause before he has to pull the phone away from his ear, a delighted shriek carrying easily over the line.

“MOLLY!” There’s a garbled noise and Molly waits a moment, amused. “Sorry, sorry, I dropped the- but, is it for _you_?” Jester’s voice drops to a stage whisper. “It _is_ for you and Caleb, yeah? You didn’t do something stupid?”

“Jester!” Molly laughs. “I’m scandalized you’d think so poorly of me. Yes, for me and Caleb. We got engaged this morning, and well, we’re not keen on waiting.”

There’s a gasp from Jester. “Molly! Oh that’s wonderful! Where are you? Are you at home?”

“No, we’re at Pumat’s-”

“Stay there! Don’t move! I will be _right_ there!”

The line goes dead, and Molly pulls the phone away to look at it.

“She hung up on me.”

They’re just finishing their drinks fifteen minutes later when the door to Pumat’s opens with a jingle and Jester flies through, followed by a confused-looking Fjord at a much more sedate pace. As soon as she spots them she makes a beeline for their table and quickly envelopes Molly in a hug.

“I’m so _happy_ for you two!”

Laughing, he hugs her back, planting a loud smack of a kiss to the top of her head. “Thank you, dear.” He looks over to Caleb, who’s smiling softly at them both, and grins. “We’re pretty happy about it, too.”

“Now,” Jester says, backing up and putting on what Molly has come to consider her Very Serious Business face. “If you are getting _married_ today, we have to do this right. Have you told anyone else yet?”

Both Caleb and Molly look at each other.

“ _Nein_.” Caleb shakes his head. “Molly called you first.”

“Okay, okay, okay.” Jester whips out her phone and starts typing on it at a speed Molly finds dizzying. “I am guessing it’s okay to tell all the regular people about this? Because I have to tell you, if you get married and you don’t tell Nott, I am not responsible for what she does to you.”

Caleb blanches slightly.  
  
“ _Schei_ _ße_.”

“Yeah, exactly.” Jester hits something on her phone decisively, and all their phones suddenly buzz.

Molly pulls his out and swipes it open to see a new group chat message.

[ _BlueberryChaos has changed the name of this chat to C + M <3 <3 <3 _]

[ _BlueberryChaos_ ]: _You guys! Caleb and Molly are engaged!!!1 This is your_ **_official_ ** _notice! They are meeting tonight at the courthouse to get hitched, and you are all invited!_

There’s a brief pause, and then enough people are typing that all that shows on the display is a string of ellipses.

[ _BlueMeanie_ ]: _WTF you guys...like...seriously?_

[ _NottTheMama_ ]: _WHAT. CALEB-_

[ _ScarySunshine_ ]: _Well that’s great :3 do you need flowers?_

“Congrats, by the way.”

Molly looks up from the ensuing shenanigans in the group chat to see Fjord holding out a hand to him. Molly grins and takes it before tugging him in to a hug. “Why thank you very much.” 

Fjord accepts the hug gracefully, then settles back into his chair in a sprawl.

“How’d she drag you into this, Fjord?”

Cheeks darkening, Fjord shrugs. “I was caddying her spray bottles of colored water. Left her hands free to work her ‘artistic vision’, she said.”

Molly snorts. “You got played.”

Fjord nods sheepishly. “Yeah, I got played.”

“Molly!”

He looks over and Jester is rewinding her scarf around her neck more securely before tucking her phone away and grabbing his arm to start hustling him toward the door. He barely has a chance to grab his coat and tail sleeve before he’s being manhandled out of the shop.

“What-”

“It’s bad luck to see each other before the wedding, _duh_. Fjord here is going to keep Caleb company, and we are all going to meet up at city hall at four o’clock so you will have _plenty_ of time! Do you have anything to wear?”

The next few hours are a blur of activity, Jester pulling him around from one shop to another. She doesn’t let him pay for anything, grinning every time he complains, explaining, ‘ _Don’t worry about it, Molly, it’s a wedding present!_ ’ and tugging him to the next shop. By a quarter after three they’ve stopped at her apartment so he can change into his new clothes; he’s managed to keep his pants, though he is sporting a new shirt of dark blue-grey silk that reminds him of Caleb’s eyes and feels soft against his skin. Jester digs around in a box and comes out with sparkling rhinestone-studded hair clips, carefully working them into Molly’s hair before standing back to look at her work.

She clasps her hands in front of her chest, her lower lip trembling slightly as she beams at him. “Molly, you look so _nice_.”

He turns to look in the mirror over her vanity and takes himself in, can’t help the smile that overtakes his face. “Jester, I’m getting _married_.”

She squeals, darting forward to grab him in a crushing hug. “I _know_! But not if we don’t make it there on time.” She wipes at her eyes, still grinning before tugging him out of the room after her. “Come on, we gotta go.”

The trip to town hall is much faster than Molly expects. He doesn’t know whether there’s less traffic, or if he’s just in such a state he doesn’t notice.

What he _does_ know is that he’ll never forget his first glimpse of Caleb once they’re inside.

Caleb is talking to Fjord and Beau and hasn’t noticed the new arrivals yet, but similar to him, he’s not wearing the same outfit he started the day in. The sweater Caleb wears is new, a deep charcoal gray that Molly knows will make Caleb’s eyes pop, and looks soft as a cloud. His hair has been tamed into some semblance of order with intricate little braids, and Molly smiles at the thought that he’ll get to mess it all up later. Something catches Caleb’s attention and he turns, and Molly has the satisfaction of knowing he was right- Caleb’s eyes are intensely blue, but warm, and they soften further as he catches sight of Molly. For a moment they just stare at each other, until Jester playfully shoves Molly forward from where he’s stalled in the corridor.

“Go on!”

Caleb meets him halfway, eyes wide in wonder, drinking him in, like he can’t believe Molly is real.

“Mollymauk, you look-” Caleb pauses, looking Molly up and down again in a way that makes Molly shiver pleasantly. “You look beautiful, _schatz_.”

“Well, you look pretty handsome yourself there, Mr. Caleb.”

Molly grins as color rises to stain Caleb’s cheeks a lovely pink. Caleb shakes his head, but doesn’t argue other than that.

“I got you some flowers, Mollymauk. I hope you like the holder.”

Brow crinkling in confusion, Molly is about to ask ‘what flowers?’ when a bouquet is shoved under his nose. He follows from the flowers, to the hand holding them, and up the arm to find Yasha standing next to him, quietly smiling down at him.

“Hello, Molly.”

“Yasha!” He barely pauses before diving forward and throwing his arms around her. “I didn’t know you were coming!”

Her smile widens, her arms coming down to hug Molly tightly, mindful of the flowers. “It was a surprise. I was supposed to arrive tomorrow, but Caleb called me, and I was able to get here sooner. I wouldn’t want to have missed this.” She gives him an extra squeeze and steps back to look down at him, her smile a little wobbly, though no less bright for it. “I’m so happy for you, Molly.”

He barely keeps a hold on his own emotions as he goes in for another hug, holding her tight. “Thanks, storm cloud.”

“Molly?”

He turns his head to look, and there’s Caleb, his hand held out towards Molly with a soft smile on his lips.

“Shall we, _schatz_?”

In that moment, Molly is pretty sure he’d follow Caleb anywhere, if he only asked.

“Yeah,” Molly says, smile widening into a grin as he takes his bouquet of flowers from Yasha and reaches out to take Caleb’s hand. “Let’s do this.”

~~

The actual act of getting married is much faster than they expect, paperwork more than anything else, and before they know it they’re done. The whole group goes out to eat afterward, joyful and boisterous and so very _them_ that Molly keeps finding himself getting distracted with how much he loves all these people, but especially the one next to him. He and Caleb haven’t been more than a foot apart since the short ceremony ended, and even now Molly finds it difficult to keep his hands off the man- his _husband_ , he thinks gleefully- even if it’s only holding his hand under the table.

It’s hours later when they finally make it home, tumbling into their apartment rosy-cheeked and laughing. It’s something of a production to get disentangled from their winter gear; Frumpkin has been horribly neglected all day and lets his ire be known by swiping repeatedly at Caleb’s scarf as he tries to unwind himself from it. Molly finds himself done first, and he just watches, a bubble of indescribable fondness filling him as Caleb’s unabashedly soft with his cat, speaking sweetly to him in apology as he gets Frumpkin dinner. Finally Molly can’t help himself any more; he waits for Caleb to stand from taking his shoes off and then crowds in, framing Caleb’s face in his hands and pulls him in to a kiss. It’s by no means their first kiss, and certainly not their first since they’ve been married, but somehow it feels different, feels _more_ , even if Molly can’t put words to how. He pulls back after a minute, letting his forehead rest against Caleb’s, and they spend a quiet moment just being close, breathing quietly.

“I got you something.” Caleb’s voice is hushed, seemingly unwilling to break the moment.

“You didn’t have to do that.” Molly means it, but it doesn’t stop the excited swish of his tail behind him at the prospect of a present.

“ _Ja_ , I know, but I wanted to.” Caleb presses another kiss to the corner of Molly’s mouth, chaste and gentle, and it takes Molly a moment to be able to respond past the sudden lump in his throat.

“Well, okay, then. How could I say no to an argument like that?”

Caleb leads him to the couch and they sit pressed together so that he can feel Caleb’s thigh and hip as a line of warmth against his own. His tail finds its customary place around Caleb’s waist, and they lose another few minutes to kissing before Caleb pulls himself back far enough to dig something out of his pocket.

“You know, you are very distracting, Mr. Mollymauk.”

“Am I?” Molly ripples his tail where it sits around Caleb’s waist and barely works to hide his grin at the gasp it elicits. “Well, it’s hardly my fault you’re easily distracted, darling.”

Caleb gives him a _look_ , but it’s fond.

“I know we had discussed rings, and agreed to worry about them later, but as the initiating party, I felt it only proper to give you some sort of token in the meantime.” Caleb pulls out a small box, too small for a ring, but with a small metallic purple bow on it, only partially squashed from being in his pocket. He holds the box out to Molly who takes it in careful hands, lifting the lid to look inside.

“You’ve had my heart for a long time, Molly. I thought it only fitting for you to have a literal representation of it as well.”

Inside the box, on a bed of black velvet, rests a pendant. A small, heart-shaped and faceted red gem, held in two worked-gold hands, as if it’s being held up in offering, threaded on a delicate gold chain. For one of the first times in recent memory, Molly finds himself speechless.

“I hope you like it.” Molly looks up to see Caleb staring back at him, face open and vulnerable. Still unable to find words yet, Molly reaches out with the hand not holding the necklace and pulls Caleb forward by the back of his neck into a kiss. He tries to express everything he’s feeling- overwhelming love, care and fondness, among other things- but isn’t sure if he manages. He is heartened by the expression on Caleb’s face after their kiss.

“It’s wonderful, dearest, I love it.” He goes in for another quick kiss before releasing his hold on Caleb’s neck so he can pluck the pendant from the box. “Help me put it on?”

It’s a matter of seconds for Caleb to help him put the necklace on, the pendant sitting perfectly at the hollow of his throat, Caleb’s breath puffing warm against his skin and ruffling the hair at the back of his neck. He turns back and Caleb is looking at him with such a look of unabashed adoration that Molly barely thinks before the words leave his mouth.

“Take me to bed?”

They take their time with each other, their touches gentle and soft and so full of love Molly feels he might burst from it, the joy he’s been feeling all day pulled up in little loving fizzles every time skin touches skin. After, they lay together, pressed close with Molly’s tail wrapped around one of Caleb’s ankles, covered in the nest of blankets they started the day in. Caleb’s dozed off, and Molly takes the chance to admire how the fairy lights strung over the bed makes Caleb’s skin glow, his hair glinting in the shifting colors. Molly pulls him close to press his lips to Caleb’s hair, murmuring, “I love you.” quietly, but meaning so much more.

_I love you._

_I’m so glad you asked._

_I can’t believe I get to spend the rest of my life with you._

_I’ve never been so happy._

Sleep is drawing Molly down as well, but he takes one last moment to take in Caleb’s face, to implant this moment in his memory. To remember the soft cadence of Caleb’s breathing, the dark sweep of his lashes against his cheeks, the warmth of Caleb’s skin under hiss hand. Molly takes these memories and holds them close as he relaxes down into his pillows and falls asleep, fingertips resting lightly on the pendant at his throat.


End file.
